Amaranthine
by Warriorcat890
Summary: There is no denying it: Daryl and Carol care deeply for one another. What if they had realized that fact earlier? What if they actually got together? This is my version of how that would happen, or how it should've happened a long time ago. Caryl. Takes place after Episode 8 of Season 2. Rated M for language and sexual content in future chapters. Warning: some character bashing.
1. Chapter 1

_Amaranthine - Chapter 1_

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**So. How ya doin'?**

**Yeah. This is a Caryl fic. They are my new OTP and I've been wanting to write something for them for a very long time.**

**This is set after episode 8 of Season 2, after the walker massacre in the barn. **

**The story will follow the main events of the series, but the story itself will focus on Daryl and Carol's relationship. Things will most likely change, but that's to be expected.**

**I hope you guys like this one, and... well... what are we waiting for?**

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_Amaranthine_

_(adj.)_

_endless; unfading; everlasting_

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**Chapter One**

"Damn, I wish I hadn't given up all of Merle's drugs," Daryl muttered as he climbed into his tent. His side ached like hell, and his head wasn't much better.

All because of her and her stupid daughter.

Daryl had devoted all of his time to finding the daughter of Carol Peletier, and, as a result, had taken an arrow to the side and a bullet to the head. Granted, neither of those incidences were _Carol's_ fault, but they would never had happened if she hadn't lost her daughter in the first place. Guilt squeezed his gut the moment he thought it.

With a groan, he flopped down on his makeshift bed. Ever since he had taken the initiative to try to find poor, little Sophia, the taciturn, redneck hunter had foraged somewhat of a friendship with her mother. Daryl couldn't even begin to comprehend it; he'd never cared for anyone before except for his mother and brother, and the first was dead, and the latter missing. His brother, Merle, had always pounded in the notion that blood was all that mattered, but now, here Daryl was unable to deny the strange way he felt about the small, silver-haired woman.

It was a feeling that Daryl had never experienced before, and that was the part that unnerved him. He had experienced lust before—Merle had made sure of that—but this wasn't like that. Sure, she was an attractive woman, but he didn't get that "I-wanna-shove-you-up-against-and-have-my-way-with-you" kind of feeling when he looked at her. It was a… softer… deeper feeling.

It scared the hell out of him.

And he hated her for making him feel that way.

"Daryl?"

The hunter let out another small groan.

Rick.

Of course he'd come check on him after he yelled at Shane. Daryl had been on edge ever since Sophia staggered out of that barn as a walker, and Shane was not helping matters. The former cop knew that Daryl was a hothead, and yet he proceeded to bait his temper. _One a these days, I'm gonna shoot that fucker with my crossbow, _Daryl thought with unashamed satisfaction.

"What d'ya want?" he asked as Rick pulled back the flap of the tent. The former sheriff's deputy knelt down so he wasn't towering over the hunter. Daryl watched as his friend ran a hand through his hair and let out a side. Annoyed, Daryl grabbed a knife that lay just a few feet from his bed and pulled it out of its sheath. He studied it for a while, looking at his warped reflection in the metal. "Well, get on with it!"

Rick let out another labored sigh. "Things are tense enough as it is without you goin' off on Shane like that."

Daryl scoffed and carelessly dropped the knife on the ground next to him. "Shit, that son of a bitch had it comin'."

"I don't doubt that he did," Rick answered. He sounded less confident now, as if he had just ventured into uncharted territory. "You can scream and yell at Shane all ya want, but you're scarin' people."

"Tell 'em to go—"

"Daryl, I need ya to be serious," Rick cut him off.

"Why? I'm sorry that I don't understand how I'm such a danger to society just by yellin'!"

Rick let out a sigh. "You aren't a danger, you just make people uncomfortable. And you've been like this ever since—"

"I know, I ain't stupid," Daryl snapped. He was beginning to lose his patience with the man he called his friend. Out of all the people in the group, Rick was one of two people that could talk to him like that without getting an arrow in the ass.

The other was Carol.

"I never said you were," Rick quickly amended. "Look, Hershel is gone—we think he went to the bar in town. Glenn and I are going after him. I need you to stay here and look after things, and not shoot someone. Can you do that?"

Daryl looked at the former officer, his eyes narrowing in wariness. "Why don't cha ask Shane?"

He watched as Rick pursed his lips together, clearly trying to conceal some kind of emotion. "I… I need you to do this, Daryl. Shane… Shane is not…" he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "He is just…"

A wave of pity washed over the hunter. He knew that Rick cared about Shane; they had been best friends. But now, after the world fell apart, things were different. Much different. Daryl wasn't stupid; he knew what Shane and Lori had been doing before Rick came along. He knew that Shane had betrayed his so-called "friend" in almost every way possible. He took a deep breath before closing his eyes.

Once again, he wasn't surprised to find out that old Merle was right.

Daryl was soft without him.

"You can count on me."

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Carol sat on the steps of the RV, studying her hands. She could hear Andrea messing around with her gun somewhere inside the vehicle, and let out a small sigh. Andrea had tried so hard to prove herself a valuable member of the group, but Carol saw her as more of a liability than an asset. When Carol had found out that Andrea had shot Daryl in the head, she almost went off to scold the younger woman herself.

She let out another longer, deeper side and put her face in her hands. Why did she feel so strongly for that redneck? There was no doubt that she was more than touched when Daryl had tried so hard to find Sophia. He had searched day and night, comforted her when she was at her lowest low, given her a flower, taught her about the Cherokee Rose, and held her in his arms when they found her daughter as a walker in the barn. It was the possibility that Sophia was alive that kept her and Daryl so close.

But Sophia was dead.

There was no reason for him to be around her anymore.

The thought of no longer having that relationship with the taciturn hunter made her chest ache.

Shaking her head, she let her hands fall from her face. It wasn't right for her to feel this way about Daryl Dixon. She had married Ed Peletier in a church with the eyes of God upon them. Just because he was dead now didn't give her an excuse to rush after a man that was entirely too young for her. It was absolutely unacceptable. She was too old to feel that way, especially when it was for someone like him.

Movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed her attention. Her head shot up and her hand reached for her knife. To her relief, she saw Rick trudging toward the RV with Daryl in tow. The former deputy looked exhausted; the beginnings of his beard were beginning to grow out even more. They were becoming scraggly and tangled. Some of the strands were even beginning to take on an ashen look. When they neared, Rick dipped his head to her respectfully before looking up toward the roof of the RV, obviously looking for Dale.

Daryl didn't follow Rick's eyes and just looked at Carol intently. He didn't offer any sort of greeting, just stared at her. For a few moments, Carol stared back, getting lost in his pure, gray-blue eyes. Once she realized that she was staring like some love-struck teenager, she quickly averted her gaze.

"Dale!" Rick called, not noticing the stares or Carol's embarrassment.

The older, white-haired man looked down at the three of them, casting a long shadow across the ground. "Whatcha need, Rick?"

Rick shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight. Anyone who didn't know him well would have mistaken the movement for that of impatience, but Carol knew better. She knew that it was just one of his habits that had no real underlying meaning, except perhaps nervousness. But everyone was nervous these days.

_Except Daryl, _Carol thought, hiding a small smile. She didn't dare look at the man who haunted her constantly. She was glad that Daryl wasn't nervous; it was good that he wasn't. It made his life a lot easier.

"You seen Glenn?" Rick inquired, shifting his weight again.

Dale and his shadow disappeared. Carol stared at Rick's boot, not wanting to do anything that might attract Daryl's attention. A few moments later, Dale's voice broke the rather awkward silence that had descended upon them. "He's on the porch of the house with Maggie."

Rick nodded even though Dale couldn't see it. "Thank ya," he said before looking to Carol. He gave her another nod before walking off around the side of the RV. Carol waited to hear Daryl's footsteps follow. When she didn't, she risked a glance up.

Daryl stood in the same spot, looking as if he hadn't moved in the slightest. He was still looking at her, his face impassive. His eyes were narrowed, but that could have been from the midday sun, and his mouth was slightly agape. He didn't say anything for a long time, and then swallowed. "How are ya doin'?"

Carol shrugged in response. How should she respond to that? Her husband was dead. Her daughter was dead. And she was attracted to the very man that stood before her. "Alright, I guess," she murmured. "Considerin'. How about you?"

Daryl looked down at his boots. "Fine," he answered. He began to turn something over with his foot—a rock most likely. Whatever it was, he wasn't paying attention to her anymore.

Another awkward silence fell between them like a wedge. Carol wanted to break it, but had no idea what to say. She wanted to tell him something important—something worthwhile. Then, completely out of nowhere, she knew what she wanted to tell him.

"Sophia would have loved you," she blurted out.

These words seemed to get the hunter's attention. His head snapped up, and she could feel his eyes burning holes into her. She immediately regretted saying it, but there was no way to turn back now. "She would have appreciated everything that you did for her… I appreciate everything you did for her… for both of us."

Daryl was quiet for a very long time. Before he kicked the rock he had been turning over with his foot. Carol flinched as it slammed against the side of the RV. "I don't give a damn what Sophia would think a me!" he snarled. "I don't care what ya think a me! Ya think I want ya gratitude, or somethin'?! Well, I don't! I didn't do it for ya! I didn't do it for her! I did it 'cause it was right!"

She closed her eyes for a few moments before raising them to his face. She saw, to her sadness that it was contorted with rage. "I know you," she whispered. "I was just trying to let you know that I'm grateful you did it. I'm glad to know that there are people in this group that do the right thing."

Daryl shot her a menacing glare before whipping around. He stalked off toward the barn at a good clip, his arms swinging in rhythm with his legs. Before he got out of earshot, Carol heard him mutter, "Stupid bitch."

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Remember to leave a review and tell me what you think, and if you wanna read more and stay up-to-date on chapters, feel free to follow and favorite! :D


	2. Chapter 2

Amaranthine - Chapter 2

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**Thanks for the reviews and follows so far! It's really appreciated. I realize that I forgot to put a disclaimer in the previous chapter, so I'll place one here and probably now on for every chapter. **

**I do not own The Walking Dead.**

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**Chapter Two**

He didn't know why he said it.

It wasn't her that he was mad at.

But he said it anyway.

And he knew that she heard it.

"Fuck," Daryl muttered under his breath, earning a concerned glance from Maggie Greene. The two of them were on the porch, Daryl sitting on the railing, his back leaned up against one of the posts, and Maggie pacing like lion in a cage.

"What is it? You see somethin'?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. Without giving him time to reply, she jogged over to the steps and looked around quickly, raising her hand to her brow. The sun was beginning to dip below the western horizon casting a golden glow upon everything it touched. Daryl saw black shadows move around the RV. _They're probably havin' dinner right now,_ he thought longingly. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. He felt his ears grow hot with embarrassment as he risked a glance at Maggie. Thankfully, the doctor's daughter seemed too absorbed in her current task to have noticed.

"God, I hope they come back soon," Maggie murmured, mostly to herself.

"They will," Daryl told her, his eyes wandering down to his crossbow that was propped up against the very poll his back was leaning against. "Rick'll get 'em back safe."

Maggie looked toward him, her eyes looking too wet for Daryl's comfort. He hated when women cried, mostly because he had no idea how to react. Merle would've hit them, or made some snide remark, but Daryl wasn't like that. Sure, he was like his brother in a lot of ways, but that was not one of them. He couldn't stand the sight, or sound of it. It made him feel like a piece of shit even if he wasn't the cause of it.

"You put a lot of faith in that man," Maggie remarked, folding her arms across her chest. Her voice sounded raw, and agonized. She sniffled slightly and began to excessively blink her eyes, holding back tears. "Is he really as great as you build him up to be?"

Daryl smirked slightly. "I don't know, you tell me when he comes back."

Maggie watched him for a bit, her eyes focusing mostly on his face. Daryl shifted uncomfortably under her piercing green eyes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she looked back toward the falling, orange disc in the sky. "You can go sit with the others," she offered. "You don't have to babysit me."

He scoffed. "I ain't babysittin' ya. Rick left me in charge. I'm lookin' after things."

She glanced toward him again before looking at the wooden boards beneath her feet. "I thought Shane was his second-in-command," Maggie said nonchalantly. Daryl knew she was trying to pry into their business, and if she had asked about anyone else, he would have told her that it was none of her goddamn business, but since it was Shane…

"Hell no," Daryl nearly laughed. "He and Rick—they were friends once, but things have changed. Shane makes people nervous—more than I make 'em nervous. And when you're worse than Daryl Dixon, you know that somethin's wrong."

Maggie turned her back on him and began to pace the porch once more. "And I suppose Lori is a part of those… changes?"

"You don't miss much, do ya?"

She turned toward him and smiled wryly. "Go get somethin' to eat," she implored with a kind look. "I can handle things."

Daryl shrugged and slid off the railing and onto the porch. Picking up his crossbow, he slung it over his shoulder and began his way toward the RV.

* * *

Carol sat between Carl and Andrea. The entire group minus Lori, Rick, Glenn, and Daryl were gathered around a small fire. Shane had insisted that they keep it small despite the chill in the autumn air. Even though it was small, it blazed proudly, radiating whatever heat it could. Every now and then, a gust of warm air would flood over her, making her sigh in pleasure. When it was replaced by an icy chill seconds later, she shivered and hugged herself.

A pot dangled above the fire with some kind of stew boiling inside. It contained small animals—squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits—all shot by Daryl.

Daryl.

_Damn him._

Just thinking of him made her insides solidify to stone.

_Stupid bitch._

That's what he'd called her.

Of course, it wasn't the first time Daryl had called her that, or had been so harsh with her, but this time seemed to really sting. _After all we've been through… After those moments with the flowers… After he held me in his arms when I cried and struggled to get to my… infected daughter… After that he still calls me that… He still… thinks of me like that._

It was different when Ed would degrade her like that; his words were like stones. They hit her hard, and left a bruise, but they faded. She healed. When Daryl spoke to her like Ed used to, his words were like knives slicing mercilessly through her flesh, mutilating her body and severing her arteries. His words killed her.

Carl was fed first—Shane personally filled his bowl to the brim. Afterwards, Shane handed Carol her bowl. It was just a bit more than half full, not that Carol minded. She knew that Carl needed to eat more to keep strong.

"You trying to kill 'er?" a familiar voice prompted.

Embarrassment washed over Carol, making her face flush. Daryl Dixon stood next to Shane, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. He was pointing at Carol's bowl, his face hard with disapproval. "You fill his bowl up as full as it'll go, and you give her half of that? She's already skinny as all hell. At this rate she won't last winter!"

Carol closed her eyes. She couldn't believe this was happening. First he calls her a bitch, and now he's yelling at Shane in front of everyone, trying to get her more food. "Daryl—"

"No, ya stay outta this, Carol," the man interrupted. "Ya need ta eat."

"What I don't need is for you to fuss over me! Why do you even care anyway?" she snapped. Carol felt the eyes of everyone on her, all wide with surprise. She was usually a very intelligent, level-headed woman that never lost her temper, especially with Daryl Dixon. No one lost their temper with him.

Daryl stared at her for a moment before looking to Shane. "Fill up 'er bowl," he said simply before turning away to sit next to Dale.

Shane took back her bowl and filled it, just as Daryl asked. Carol refused to look at anyone and took her bowl of stew back, ashamed. She wasn't even hungry anymore, and was tempted to give it to Carl. The boy always seemed to be hungry. However, she knew that if she did, Daryl would never let her hear the end of it.

Even after everyone had gotten their share, Carol still had not touched her portion. She stared into the broth, occasionally stirring it with her spoon. All the while, she could feel Daryl Dixon's eyes on her. _Why do you care? _she asked again in her mind.

When most of the others had finished up, Carol still hadn't eaten. Shane had gone off to look for Lori who had apparently disappeared, Dale walked up to the house to comfort Maggie. Andrea retreated to the RV to play with her weapons again, T-Dog took watch by the porch, and Carl had wandered off, most likely looking for Beth.

That left just her and Daryl.

Once the last of the group had left, Daryl rose from his seat and came to sit next to her. Carol still didn't look at him, and stared down into her dinner.

He glared. "Shit, do I have to force the food down ya throat, or somethin', woman?"

Carol still refused to look at him.

"Fuck," he swore looking away from her, shaking his head. Carol still remained silent and stone-faced. She wasn't going to give him any kind of satisfaction. When he finally looked back toward her, Carol risked a look at him. Just as she had figured, his face portrayed his irritation, but there was something else there—something in his eyes that was soft and inviting. It was something that made Carol want to throw the stupid bowl on the ground and throw her arms around him. "Are ya gonna talk to me, or not?"

"Why should I speak to you?" she replied stiffly. "You'll probably just call me a dumb bitch again, so I don't see the point." Her words were cruel, and she knew they were. Remorse raked at her stomach. She was never like this—ever. Why did it only happen around Daryl Dixon? Why did he have such a negative effect on her?

She expected him to roar, or curse, or just get up and leave, but he didn't. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

He didn't offer any explanation as to why he said it like the last time he called her a name. He didn't make a case for himself. He didn't say anything else.

And for some reason, it was that fact that made the apology matter more to her.

"Never embarrass me like that again," she whispered.

Daryl looked at his hands. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "But I make no promises. You gotta eat. You ain't gonna survive winter at this rate."

"Why do you care?" Carol asked again.

He looked over at her, his entire face soft this time. He studied her for a moment, and she did the same to him. After about a minute of this, Daryl pursed his lips together and rose. Carol watched him curiously as he walked away, leaving her question unanswered.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you thought! Oh, and please remember to follow and favorite so you can read new chapters when they come out! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_Amaranthine - Chapter 3_

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**I hope that you guys don't hate me at the end of this chapter...**

**Things will get better.**

**Trust me.**

**Anyway, it's 2:35 in the morning. I've written this story for... how many hours now? I don't even know. I'm addicted to writing it. That means good things, my friends.**

**Good, good things.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

**If I did, you would know.**

**It would be all about Daryl Dixon.**

**And Carol of course.**

**But mostly Daryl.**

**I'll shut up now.**

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**Chapter Three**

She knew what she had to do.

Ever since the night Daryl had avoided her question about his motivations, Carol had been pondering what exactly it meant. For three days she had been thinking about it. Daryl had been avoiding her entirely now, staying away from the RV during the day and from the house whenever he knew she was inside. He took his dinner out to his tent and had little to no contact with anyone, especially Carol.

Daryl's silence and his new distance from her gave her hope, but hurt her as well. Why had he refused to answer her question that night? Why would he avoid her afterwards?

After gathering all the strength and courage she could muster, Carol set off for Daryl's camp. She walked across the open field toward the small copse of trees that Daryl called home. A gust of chilly wind slapped her in the face, making her shiver. Instinctively, she hugged herself and moved forward. Daryl usually had a fire, or at least the dying embers of one. Either way, she'd find some warmth.

When she reached his camp, she discovered it was empty. The hunter was nowhere to be found; it seemed almost deserted. The fire was beyond salvation, just a few embers remaining at the very bottom. A string was hung between two of the trees, providing a place for him to hang the majority of his smaller kills. However, as Carol studied it, she saw three ears dangling from another piece of string. Her stomach clenched at the sight and she quickly turned away. She had no doubt that the ears had come from walkers, but that didn't make it any less disgusting. She headed for the tent next and called out his name before pulling back the flap. Just as she suspected, it was empty.

Where was he?

"What the hell are ya doin'?"

His voice made her jump. Carol spun around, a hand on her knife. She knew it was him—she would never mistake his voice—but reaching for her knife was just a common response.

Daryl Dixon raised his hands defensively, palms facing her. "Jeez, woman," he remarked, a smirk on his face. "I knew ya were pissed at me, but I didn't think ya'd try to pull a knife on me."

She rolled her eyes and let her hands fall limp at her sides. Daryl mimicked her, and it was then that she noticed the blood on his knuckles. "Oh my God, what happened? Are you hurt?" she asked. Without thinking, she stepped toward him and grabbed his hand. She looked at it for cuts or scrapes, and then suddenly realized.

She was holding Daryl Dixon's hand.

* * *

The moment Carol touched his hand, Daryl froze. He didn't know how to react—his body didn't know how to react. There was nothing sexual about it, but just the feeling of her skin against his made something inside him stir. He had no idea what it was, and didn't intend to find out. He wanted to jerk his hand way. He wanted to scream and yell and throw a redneck tantrum. He did not want her to touch him.

When Carol dropped his hand, he let out a breath he hadn't even known that he'd been holding. He looked down at his boots. His hand still tingled where she had touched it.

_Damn her. Damn her and her fuckin'… Whatever the fuck it is!_

"I'm sorry," Carol mumbled before quickly changing the subject. "What happened? Why do you have blood on you?"

"I spent the morning chatting with our prisoner," he told her. He didn't want to say more—she didn't need to hear anything else. She didn't need to know that she just beat up a man to get information out of him. She didn't need to know that he treated him extra rough just at the thought of his group coming to the farm and doing God-knows-what to Carol and the other women. He would not let that happen. There was no way in heaven or hell that he would ever let anything like that happen to her.

_Why do you care?_

"Randall," Carol said softly. He didn't miss the knowing look on her face. She wasn't stupid. She knew that he just beat the crap out of the kid. "So… did he… tell you anything interesting?"

_Only that you and every other woman on this farm would be raped if his men came callin',_ he answered silently. "Not much… Are ya gonna answer my question? What the hell are ya doin' out here?"

Carol shuffled her feet nervously and avoided his gaze. Daryl seemed to finally realize how small the silver-haired woman really was. She was half is side, if not less than that. Everything about her was compact, condensed. Daryl knew that if she didn't put some weight on, she was gonna freeze all winter, or get sick every other week, or not make it all. He disliked all of those prospects, but really hated the last one. He didn't want to think of her dying. He just couldn't imagine it.

"I came… to talk to you," Carol finally confessed. After a few moments, she raised her eyes to his. They looked so innocent and helpless. They spurred another feeling inside Daryl, but this one wasn't like the one he'd felt when she had touched his hand. It was very different, and even more terrifying.

"Well," he said, trying to keep his voice level. If there was one thing that Merle taught him, it was how to hide how he really felt. He had never been more grateful for that than when he was around Carol; it was then that this ability was most useful. "Start talkin'."

Carol took a deep breath, trying to gather her words.

Daryl suddenly needed to move. He turned away from her and went over to the small log that he had placed near his now lifeless fire. He sat down, and immediately regretted it. _You need to move, so you sit down? Daryl, you're a fuckin' dumbass, you know that?_ In an effort to soothe his jitters, he began to bounce his knee as pulled a small pack of matches from his pocket.

Carol walked over slowly, playing with her hands. "I just… I wanted an answer is all."

Daryl's knee was moving up and down rapidly now. He felt like he could run ten miles without even breaking a sweat. He didn't want to be there anymore. He didn't want to look at her. The need to escape overruled everything else. But he knew he couldn't run off. He couldn't ditch her like he had three days ago. "An answer ta what?"

"Why do you care?" she asked the same question that had undoubtedly been buzzing through both of their minds. "Why do you care about me so much? Why do you look after me? Why did you look for Sophia? Why did you comfort me when I cried?"

Daryl did not know the answer.

But Carol wasn't leaving. She stood there, watching him closely.

_Damn you, woman._

Daryl lit a match and tossed it into the logs. To his happiness, the twigs and branches still nourished the flame. He grabbed another branch that he had placed nearby and tossed it with the others. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could forget that she was there.

"Daryl."

A jolt shot through his body when she said his name. Sure, she'd said it before, but never when they were alone; there wasn't a need to. Knowing that it was just the two of them, alone, changed things. Daryl closed his eyes and tried to suppress the feeling, but by now, it had worked its way down to a certain part of his body that he dreaded it reaching.

_Damn you. Damn you. Damn you!_

"What?" he snarled, jerking his head up so he could look at her. He expected to see an annoyed, or very determined Carol standing there, maybe with her hands on her hips. But what he got was something different. She stood there, watching him with careful eyes that had another emotion in them. If Daryl didn't know better, he would have mistaken it for affection. She didn't seem annoyed or upset. Just… oddly okay with his refusal to answer. She didn't even flinch at his tone.

"Nothin'," she answered with a furtive smile before walking off, leaving him to his thoughts.

Daryl watched her go until she was a miniscule spec in the distance. When he could no longer see her, he grabbed leapt off the log and grabbed his crossbow. He needed to get out here. He needed to escape this madness.

* * *

Carol walked back toward the RV, a large smile on her face. She was convinced—his silence, his reluctance to answer—it had to mean something. If it didn't, he would have told her. He would have made sure that she understood that he didn't care. But he had to. Otherwise, he wouldn't have done what he did.

When she reached the RV, she saw Shane and Lori talking quietly next to the door. Andrea was on watch, her binoculars raised to her eyes as she scanned the horizon for walkers. Seeing that everyone seemed to be focused on their current activities, she decided to go to the house instead. Surely there was something to do there, or someone to talk to.

Maggie and Glenn were on the porch. Carol watched fondly as Glenn strummed his guitar absently while Maggie ruffled his hair and made some comment about it being too bad that he didn't look like a country singer. Carol wished that she could have a relationship like that. An image of Daryl holding the guitar and her standing next to him, smiling and messing with his hair suddenly popped into her mind.

She frowned.

_You're too damn old for this, Carol._

Determined not to let the young couple make her fantasize about anything else, Carol strode past them and into the house. Patricia and Beth sat on the couch talking softly to one another. When the pair saw Carol enter, they smiled and waved her over.

"We were just talking about dinner actually," Patricia said timidly. "We were going to invite you and the others to eat inside tonight. We have more than enough room, and it's the least we can do."

Carol smiled. "That's very nice of you. I'm sure the other members of my group will appreciate that, but you better make sure that Hershel is alright with it, and that Rick knows. In the meantime, is there anything I can do?"

* * *

This dinner was nowhere near as awkward as their first together. Hershel sat at one end of the table, as a patriarch normally would, while Rick at the other end. Lori was to Rick's right and Andrea to his left. Carol was on the other end of the table from her leader, sitting on the left side of Hershel. Patricia was across from her, and next to her was an empty seat.

The seat that had been intended for Daryl Dixon.

"Do ya think he's coming?" she heard Lori ask Rick.

"I dunno," Rick admitted. He looked to Hershel and nodded. "We can start eatin', I'm sure that Daryl wouldn't want us to wait for 'im."

Hershel nodded once before motioning for his family, as well as Rick's group to help themselves. Carol watched as her friends piled their plates with food. Her stomach growled, but she couldn't bring herself to eat. Where was Daryl? Had he really turned down a good meal? She couldn't believe that. A part of her wanted to ask if anyone had seen Daryl and told him about the dinner, but she restrained herself. She knew that Rick would tell him—he wouldn't leave him in the dark.

But as the dinner went on, the taciturn hunter did not show. And soon, the affair had come to a close and Carol's group were beginning to disperse and head off back to the RV, or their rooms. Carol helped Patricia and Beth with the dishes before rushing out to check on Daryl.

Something wasn't right.

When she reached Daryl's camp, her fears were confirmed.

Daryl was gone.

The fire was out.

The tent had disappeared, and so had the bike.

Daryl had left them.

Daryl had left _her._

* * *

A/N: Did you like this chapter? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know. I'm sorry I made him leave. Our beloved Daryl is just having issues acknowledging that he wants to do more for her than shove her up against a tree and have his way with her. Wanna figure out what happens next? Be sure to follow and maybe even favorite.


	4. Chapter 4

_Amaranthine - Chapter 4_

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**Hey you guys! **

**First off, I would like to say thanks. Thank you guys soooooooo much for all the support this story has gotten so far! I love all the reviews that you've graced me with and it's my motivation to keep writing. I love you guys; you always manage to bring a smile to my face.**

**Now that I've thanked you (possibly flattered you) I have to tell you the bad news. This is a bit of a filler chapter, but the ending might make up for it. For those of you that might think I'm starting to kind of rush in straight to the relationship just by the ending, I'm not. Just... Well... You'll see. ^^**

**Anyway, I know this update is a bit late due to how quickly I got the first three chapters out, and this will most likely be how most of the chapters from now on are turned out (unless I write more tonight, which I probably will). Winter break is ending for me and school will be starting again. Naturally, it's a bitch, so... well... yeah. And then there are midterms soon.**

**Fun.**

**So chapters will most likely come out more slowly now. Sorry. :(**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

**I'm sorry about that too.**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Daryl watched as the arrow hit its mark, plunging into the eye of the male walker that had been tailing him ever since he left the farm. The hunter trudged over, leaves crunching beneath his boots. He sneered down at the walker before yanking his arrow out of creature's eye socket with spite. The rotten, black blood leaked from the new hole and dripped from the blade of his arrow. Without even giving it much thought, Daryl wiped it off on his jeans before leaving the walker where it lay.

He had lost track of how many days it had been since he left the farm. He estimated that it was no less than two and no greater than five. Daryl was astounded at how easily he lost track of the time on his own. There was no schedule, no duties he had to carry out, no one calling him for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

No Carol.

It was just him.

A part of him relished this new loneliness. He didn't have to cater to Rick or Shane's needs anymore. He didn't have to listen to Lori make a fool of herself, or watch Andrea be the prime example of a dumb blonde. He could just be on his own and do whatever he liked, whenever he liked. He hunted for himself, found himself fresh water, set his camps, protected himself. And he didn't have to give a damn about anyone else.

And yet he did.

Every now and then, when he was least expecting, an image or memory of Carol would sneak up on him. He might be aiming his bow at a squirrel, picking berries, killing walkers, following or a trail, or lying down to get some rest at night, but Carol Peletier seemed to always find a way to surprise him. She could come to him at any time of day and haunt his mind. Mostly, he would just see her face—smiling and radiant. Her blue eyes might stay into his, looking like two crystalline orbs. These were the ones that annoyed him. Why couldn't the damn woman let him be? Then, there were other images that came to him. These mostly came to him in the middle of the night. In one, she could be lying beside him, moving in to press her full, pink lips to his. In another, she could be screaming his name, begging for help as walkers ripped her apart right before her eyes.

Each vision made him jolt form his sleep, and both wracked him with guilt, the latter more than anything. Had he left her behind to die? When he really thought about it, he was the only person that ever looked out for Carol. The other people knew she was there, but they worried about themselves, or their own people. Rick had his family. Shane obsessed over Rick's family. Dale and Andrea had each other. Glenn had Maggie. Hershel had his daughters, and T-Dog worried mostly about himself. He was the only one that ever worried about Carol.

And now he wasn't there.

Daryl shook his head, trying to repress the thought of walkers ripping Carol apart and feasting upon her flesh. He began his journey back to his makeshift camp. The entire point of leaving the group was to get away from Carol, but the damn woman wouldn't leave him alone.

He muttered curses under his breath as he pushed forward, bushes, tendrils, and other undergrowth snagging at his jeans and the laces of his boots. After he left the farm, he had backtracked to the highway. Daryl figured that since he had nothing better to do, that he should find Merle, but he didn't have a very good clue of how to start that process. So, he decided to hang out by the highway hoping that, by some chance, Merle might happen to drive by in the van he stole. It was a foolish notion, but having some goal was better than wandering aimlessly.

When he did reach his little camp, he was greeted with a few walkers that were sniffing about, clearly knowing that he had been there. Daryl easily took them out with his crossbow and then hauled the bodies into a pile a good distance away from his tent. He then began to nurse the fire that he had been keeping alive for the past few days. However, with every icy, northern gust, the flame flickered uncertainly before returning to its full strength. Daryl knew that soon, winter would be upon them, and it would become harder to keep his meager fire lit.

_What about her? _he wondered. _Will she last the winter? If she doesn't start eatin'…_ Daryl trailed off. He was already experiencing too much regret where that woman was concerned—regret for not saving her daughter, regret for not being a better friend, regret for not being a better man, regret for leaving her by herself where she was most likely going to die…

Daryl let out a thin hiss between his teeth as he warmed his hands with the flame. He had been so preoccupied with following a trail through the woods (that led to a dead end) and fighting off walkers and thoughts of Carol that he had forgotten to hunt. He shook his head, disgusted. _Since when does Daryl Dixon forget to hunt? Fuckin' dumbass._

Without having any dinner, Daryl slid into his tent. He knew that if Merle had been there, his older brother would've been giving him one hell of a talking to. He could hear him now, "_You're a dumbass, you know that, Darylena? Let that fuckin' woman get ta ya head? Damn, I knew you were always a bit of a softie, but damn boy. The broad's got ya wrapped around her little finger. You're whipped and ya ain't even fuckin' the bitch._"

As masochistic as it was, Daryl couldn't help but smirk at the thought. Although he didn't agree with most of it, there was one part he couldn't deny: Carol undoubtedly had some kind of hold on him; A hold that couldn't easily be broken, even by him leaving her behind.

* * *

The group gathered around the small grave, their heads hung in mourning. This was one of the few times that Carol had attended a funeral for a group member and she already could feel the tears brimming in her eyes. She watched in solemnity along with the others as T-Dog, Shane, and Rick lowered the mutilated body of Dale into his grave. Carol wiped away a tear that had seeped from the side of her eye and put a hand over her mouth as if to show her devastation.

Dale had always been a central member of the group. He looked after the guns, helped keep the cars in working order, and was always there to lend an ear, or offer advice. Carol remembered hearing him talk about a time when he was very angry and selfish, but she couldn't even imagine it. Dale was always upbeat and optimistic; always the one to fight to preserve the humanity of the group. He looked after everyone as if they were members of his family helped wherever he could.

Carol wished she could have known him better.

Everyone was there—all of Rick's group, and all of the Greene family had come to pay Dale their respects. Yet, someone was missing. Someone that Carol knew was never going to turn up.

For a fleeting moment, an image of Daryl Dixon lying prone and lifeless in the forest flashed before her eyes. It left almost as quickly as it appeared, but still managed to leave Carol somewhat shaken. Anxiety rose within her before it quickly faded. Daryl Dixon was a hunter and tracker. He was tough as nails. If anyone could survive the zombie apocalypse in one piece, it was undoubtedly Daryl.

After a few words of solace, T-Dog and Glenn set to work filling the grave. Most of the group dispersed but Carol couldn't help but look on with sad eyes as a grief-stricken Andrea stared down into the grave. She watched as the man that clearly had cared about her so deeply was covered buried in soil. Carol walked over to the younger woman and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Andrea's head snapped over, startled by the sudden touch. Once she locked eyes with Carol though, her panic was quickly replaced with sorrow. The blond woman leaned into her, resting her head on Carol's shoulder. Carol sighed and rubbed Andrea's shoulder soothingly. "It'll be alright. He's in a much better place now. He doesn't have to suffer anymore."

Andrea let out a shaky breath. "But we do. We all have to suffer… All of us."

* * *

Curiosity had been nagging him practically from the moment he left. Despite all his efforts to resist, or at least procrastinate going back to the farm, after a few days of living on his own, doing nothing useful, he decided to head back. He wasn't going to drive up and expect a warm welcome; he wasn't even going to tell anyone he was there. All Daryl wanted was to check up on things: make sure that Carol was alright and that the farm itself hadn't fallen apart without him.

Night had fallen, and he knew that it would be the easiest time to sneak into camp unnoticed. He drove his bike three quarters of the way, and then decided to walk the last stretch. If he drove the bike any closer, he'd almost certainly be heard. So, with his crossbow slung over his shoulder as always, he made his way toward the farm, toward Carol.

The thought of seeing Carol again brought an odd potency to his body. He felt like he could run ten miles and defeat a herd of walkers along the way. Adrenaline pumped through him at the thought of being close to her again, at the thought of looking at her oddly appealing face. Thinking of a woman might dull the senses of some men, but it only sharpened Daryl Dixon's; it gave him power. He felt alive.

And with these heightened sensory abilities, it didn't take him long to realize that something was wrong. Usually, there would be one or two walkers that he would stumble across, especially at night, but there was none. And, even stranger, the woods were silent. There were no rustlings in the undergrowth—no owls hooting to one another, no coyotes howling at the moon.

Silence.

Horrible, unnerving silence.

Fear clenched his heart.

Something was wrong.

Something was _wrong._

He began to jog—slowly at first—but then broke into a run, and then a sprint. He let his crossbow fall from his shoulder and held it in his hand as he rushed in the direction of the farm.

Daryl didn't get tired.

He couldn't afford to be tired.

Something was wrong, and Carol needed him.

He was sure of it.

* * *

A/N: Did you like this chapter? Leave a review and let me know! Remember that if you wanna keep up with the story to follow and maybe even favorite! :D


	5. Chapter 5

_Amaranthine - Chapter 5_

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**Hehe, well. This is a biggie. **

**First off, more chapters will most likely come soon! I am currently working on six, and hope to finish it some time tonight. And also, more good news, my classes got cancelled tomorrow due to extreme cold. :D**

**So, yeah.**

**Anyway, this is a big chapter for our favorite redneck. xD Well, the next chapter may be bigger, but... well... you'll see. XD**

**I bet you're dying to find out what I'm talking about, so I'll give the disclaimer, and then we can get on with the show.**

**I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

The barn was on fire.

_The barn was on fire._

Daryl stared at the flames with wide eyes. There wasn't much that could surprise him, or scare him for that matter, but the sight of the barn engulfed by a golden-orange fire nearly made his heart stop. Walkers were everywhere, swarming the landscape that he always viewed as being untouchable. Even the farm—one of the most sacred places he had come across since the world fell—had finally succumbed to the inevitable.

But he could scarcely think about any of that now; he had one thing and one thing only on his mind.

Carol.

A few of the walkers had taken notice to him and had turned in his direction. Without hesitation, the hunter raised his crossbow and planted an arrow between the nearest walker's eyes. He then ran forward and yanked it out of the decaying flesh. The second walker was closing in, but Daryl was already a step ahead—as always. He drew a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. Just as the walker reached him, Daryl buried the blade in the monster's skull. The third he took down easily with the same arrow that had ended the first.

Killing the walkers seemed to help him relax. The initial panic that had originally plagued him was now no longer so potent. Daryl knew he had to keep calm; he needed to think so he could help Carol.

_Where is she?_

His first guess was the house, so that was where he went. He could make out the black silhouettes of his group as they shot down the closest walkers. He ran toward the steps, knowing that the group wouldn't shoot a humanoid figure moving so quickly.

Maggie was the first to notice him. "Dar—" she began, but was cut off by Lori.

"Maggie, to your right!"

Daryl's eyes scanned the porch, looking for one person in particular that he couldn't seem to find. Lori, Andrea, Maggie, Glenn and Hershel were all lined up on the porch shooting down walkers. Beth and Patricia were huddled closer to the main door. The young, blond girl's eyes were red from crying and her head was resting on the older woman's shoulder. Daryl strode over to them, making Beth shy away, as if she were afraid that he was going to turn into a walker any second.

"Carol," he said, knowing he didn't have to say anymore.

He didn't miss the look that was exchanged between the two women; Beth had pulled away slightly and had met Patricia's eyes sadly. Daryl grew impatient and clamped his hands into fists. He could practically feel the veins bulging from his skin when he did so. "Carol," he demanded. His voice was hard and unyielding now. He wanted an answer; he needed one.

Patricia turned toward him, her eyes steady, but her voice betrayed her fear. "We… we can't find her."

* * *

Carol was running as quickly as possible.

The chilly, night air felt soothing against her sweaty skin, but she had no time to relish it. She could hear the crunching of leaves as the walkers pursued her, only spurring her forward. Her legs were beginning to fatigue and her breaths were coming in rapid gasps. She couldn't keep going on much longer.

And then, it happened.

Something caught her ankle, and she went tumbling down into the leaf litter. She bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed in an effort to hold back a scream of terror. She rolled onto her back, praying to God that it had just been a tree limb that made her fall.

The gnarled, mangled face of a walker stared back at her, his teeth bared. Carol couldn't hold back this new wail that rose in her throat. She struggled to squirm backwards and away from the animated corpse. The walker had an iron grip on her leg and wasn't planning on letting go. Carol tried to use her free leg to kick it in the head, but kept missing in her panic.

As much as she tried, she couldn't seem to break its hold. _Let me go! Let me go! Please, God help me! Make it let me go!_

God must have heard her; an arrow impaled the walker's head, making it still.

Carol yanked her ankle away, still fighting for air. Her breath was abnormally loud and her heart was racing. Her vision was then blurred by tears as she battled to acquire a level head. Somewhere, in the midst of the saltwater, a silhouette approached her. She had hardly thought of her savior—the person who killed the walker that would have otherwise feasted upon her.

But there he was, walking toward her with a crossbow slung over his shoulder.

* * *

The moment Daryl saw her lying on the ground, with the walker practically on top of her, he sprang into action. The sounds of her screams made his blood burn with a rage unlike anything he'd ever felt before. As he raised his bow and aimed it at the walker's head, there was only one thing that he could think coherently: _Not her._

His aim was perfect; the arrow struck the walker exactly as he had intended, making it fall limp. Carol scrambled away from it, her entire body trembling in fear. Her mangled sobs pierced his heart like knives. _I shouldn't've left. I never should've left. _He disposed of the other corpses that had been trailing her before walking toward her slowly. He didn't want to rush up to her—it could scare her even more. So, instead, he approached her quietly, holding out his hand.

"Carol," he whispered. "It's me."

She looked up at him with astonished, crystal eyes. They were red and puffy now, and still held a waterfall of tears. "It's me. It's Daryl."

The moment he spoke his name, Carol was off the ground and coming towards him. Before he could respond, she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him in for an embrace. The hunter went rigid. Carol was right there, touching him. Her anterior was pressed up against him so tightly, he could feel the front of her body through her clothes. Every nerve-ending in his body suddenly sprung to life. Daryl vaguely remembered the image of the brain the group had been showed back at the CDC, and he imagined that that was precisely how the inside of his body looked at that moment; alive, invigorated, electric, like live wires.

After a few moments, before he even got a chance to wrap his brain around what was happening and to react, Carol pulled away. The liveliness, the vitality, the high that he had previously experienced vanished.

"Daryl," she whispered, looking up at him affectionately. A faint echo of the way he felt when she hugged him rippled throughout him, like a solitary wave. Just the way she said his name made parts of him jolt alive. She smiled through her pain, and tried to blink away her tears. Even when she was crying and clearly hurt, she was beautiful. She had just been through a life-or-death experience and she seemed to be already trying to mask her pain to make him feel better. The strength and selflessness of the woman that stood barely a foot away astounded him. "You're here."

Daryl wasn't sure how to reply. She had been the reason he'd left, and the reason he'd came back. He wasn't exactly eager to tell her that either, so he settled for, "Of course I did," and walked away.

For a few moments, Daryl was fearful that she wouldn't follow him, but then heard the sounds of her footsteps as she scrambled after him. "But…" she gasped, still breathless from her flight from the walkers. "Why… did you come… back? And… how did you know… where to find… me?"

"I came back because I had a feelin' somethin' was wrong, and I was right. I found ya 'cause I'm an expert tracker in case ya'd forgotten," he replied. Already he was feeling more comfortable. The hug that she had bestowed on him was now simply a memory. She was there, at his side, and that was all he needed.

"Where… are the others?" she inquired. He could tell that she was struggling to keep up; she was taking three steps for every one of his, and the creepers weren't helping the situation much either. Her shoes were small, and made for normal, everyday occasions that did not involve hiking through the woods, so, naturally, they got caught on every plant that existed.

Daryl slowed significantly and glanced over at her. The small woman was looking up at him expectantly, the tears gone and fear replaced with contentment. Did he really have such an effect on her? Did she truly rely on and trust him so completely? He pushed the thought away and shrugged. "The farm is done—taken over by walkers. I think just about everyone left. The moment I saw that ya weren't there, I went ta find ya. The others were getting' ready to split too; mentioned somthin' about the highway."

He felt her eyes on him for the longest time. "You… looked for me…?" she asked, as if she couldn't bring herself to believe it.

"'Course I did."

"Why?"

Daryl was again left without a decent answer. "I… I guess I didn't wanna see ya hurt s'all… I mean… I don't wanna see anyone hurt, but…" he trailed off, embarrassed. _Fuckin' idiot. Way ta go._

Carol smiled wryly. "Sure, I get it."

Now, he stopped and turned toward her, annoyance prickling inside him. "Get what, exactly?"

She stopped a few paces ahead of him and smiled sweetly back at him before continuing on without him.

He watched her go, eyes narrowed slightly. Everything about her lured him in like she was some kind of siren, but once he was near her, she had him in the palm of her hand, which he despised. _I ain't nobody's bitch._ Yet, he knew that was a flat-out lie. Despite his quest to prove his independence and his desire for it to be true, he couldn't deny that Carol Peletier had some kind of iron-tight grip on him. She had him by his drawers, and he knew it. _Damn that woman,_ he thought grudgingly before stalking after her.

The things she did to him.

* * *

Daryl grumbled for most of the remainder of their journey. Carol walked at his side, but slightly behind him. She could tell that she had angered him, but couldn't help but feel smug about it. _Serves the bastard right for leaving me like that! _she thought, before shaking her head. Daryl didn't leave her… She wasn't his to leave. But that scarcely mattered anymore; he'd came back, and he had gone looking for her. Even though he tried to deny it countless times, Carol knew that Daryl Dixon cared about her. If he didn't, he wouldn't have looked for her.

For a Dixon never does anything they don't want to do.

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, Carol hadn't even noticed that they had been going in the wrong direction of the highway. She almost pointed it out to the hunter at her side, but then decided against it—of course he would know that they weren't going that way. He was taking her somewhere else, but why?

"Where are we going?" she asked. Her voice was unnaturally soft; she was afraid that if she spoke any louder, her voice would squeak with the remnants of trepidation. She never did have good experiences with men who tried to lead her to some secluded location she didn't know.

Daryl looked back at her briefly. He must have sensed her discomfort. "Don't worry, I'm takin' ya to this place I found after I left the farm. It's safe there… and ya don't have ta worry 'bout me."

She blushed, and averted her gaze to her sneakers. Was it really that obvious? "Why aren't we going to meet the others at the highway?"

"'Cause, we wouldn't make it. These woods are crawlin' wit walkers. Our best chance is ta find a place ta hunker down for the night. Plus, this place has four solid walls, so it'll keep out a lot of the cold. We can head toward the highway tomorrow mornin'," he explained.

Nodding, she followed him the rest of the way in silence. When they reached this house Daryl had spoken of, Carol looked at it in wonder. The house was in the middle of a clearing—one that had most likely been deliberately cleared out for the house itself. The silver light of the full moon bathed the clearing in a ghostly light and shone down on the house, illuminating it. The house looked to be only a few decades old and was relatively large. It appeared to have about three stories judging by the window placement. The house itself was white with a black door and black shutters. From what Carol could see, it looked intact, and, just as Daryl had said, there weren't any walkers around.

"Nice find, huh?" the hunter prompted, stepping out from the shadows of the forest and into the clearing. Carol watched as his toned body was washed with the pale, silver light. She couldn't help but stare; he suddenly became unfathomably handsome. Of course, he had always been very easy on the eyes, but at that moment, he was transformed into some celestial god. Daryl turned back toward her, his piercing blue eyes gazing at her expectantly, but she was rooted to the spot, struck breathless by his perfection.

"Comin'?" he asked, clearing his throat. He had noticed her staring.

Her eyes immediately snapped away from him, but the image was imprinted in her brain forever. She swallowed once before following him; she could almost feel the light flooding over her as well, transforming her into some creature from another world.

Now, it was Daryl's turn to stare. She felt his eyes on her, but refused to look up, not wanting to know what she would find. It took him maybe five seconds to look away; to dismiss her. She'd been wrong—even the light of the moon could not make her beautiful; it could not redeem her. It was simple moonlight, not the fountain of youth. She would never look like other woman—curvy, with long, luscious hair and smoky eyes that battered their lashes whenever a man came within a five-yard radius. She would always herself—an old lady with mousy hair and tired eyes. She felt the tears spring up again, and took the chance to wipe them away since Daryl was no longer paying attention to her.

* * *

A/N: Don't worry. Daryl Dixon will pay PLENTY of attention to her in the next chapter. ;D

Did you like this chapter? Leave a review and let me know! Remember if you're new, or if you haven't done so already, please follow so you can keep up-to-date on new chapters! :D


	6. Chapter 6

_Amaranthine - Chapter 6_

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**I know that some of you aren't going to be very pleased with me after this chapter, but... oh well.**

**I wanna stay as true to the characters as possible - I wanna keep Daryl the way Daryl is and keep Carol how she is, so... this is the result.**

**Angst.**

**Indecision.**

**And sexual tension.**

**Amazing, isn't it?**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

**Whoops.**

**Why "whoops"?**

**I dunno.**

**I'm hyper.**

**Hehe.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Once she had finally gotten herself together, she realized that Daryl was already at the front door. She rushed to catch up, wondering how he had gotten there so fast. Had she really been wallowing her own self-pity for so long, or had he practically sprinted across the clearing to get away from her? When she reached him, Daryl opened the door and held it for her in a surprising, gentlemanly gesture.

Carol felt heat flood her cheeks—no one had ever opened a door for her. She gave him a weak smile, still disheartened by her failure to be beautiful, even if just for a moment. His eyes seemed to follow her solicitously as she entered the house, but he offered no inquiry or consolation. She let out an unsteady sigh as she stepped into the foyer. It was probably better this way.

The door swung shut with a small creak, taking the light with it. Once it clicked into place, the duo was left in complete darkness. Carol's breath hitched; she couldn't see him and he couldn't see her. Without warning, she heard the sounds of his boots as he came towards her. Her heart began to pound.

"Are ya alright?" His voice was right in her ear; his breath tickled the skin of her cheek.

She couldn't answer knowing that he was in such close proximity. Words would simply not come to her. So, she stood there like a fool, licking her lips, her breath now coming in rapid gasps, but no longer out of fear or exhaustion.

"Answer me, woman." His voice came again in the same place, not having moved. If they had been anywhere else, he would have shouted it at her, but in the darkness, his voice was uncharacteristically soft and gentle, but also husky, and strained. "Please, I'm dyin' here."

"I'm… I'm fine…"

A rough, calloused hand grazed her arm every-so-slightly. "Ya sure?"

She gulped. Daryl Dixon was never the one to initiate any kind of physical contact. "Y- yes…"

His hand disappeared, and she heard the sounds of his boots move around in front of her. "C'mon," he whispered. For a moment, it sounded as if his voice was a part of the darkness. She followed him warily, listening carefully for his footsteps. Then, Carol's feet hit something solid.

A step.

He was taking her _upstairs._

Carol's mind began to spin as a thousand different fantasies strived for attention in her brain. What would they do once they got to the top? What would _he _do? Were all her impure, immoral thoughts about to come true?

* * *

Daryl had no idea what he was doing.

He hadn't just crossed the line, he had ran ten yards passed it, and kept going. What was he thinking, bringing her upstairs directly after that little intimate moment? He knew that he had given her the wrong impression and now had to break it to her.

_But is it really the wrong impression? _a darker, most lustful side of him inquired. _You've seen what she does to you now, imagine what she'd do if—_Daryl stopped himself before he went any farther. He needed to end this now, before it got too far out of hand; before he lost control.

And he knew that he would.

He reached the top of the stairs faster than he thought he would. His muscles were tense and his body stiff. _Don't let 'er start somethin'. Good Lord, don't let 'er start somethin'. _Slowly, he made his way toward the bedroom. _I'll leave 'er there. Sleep on the floor just outside. Outta sight, outta mind. I'll still be 'ere to protect 'er. I just won't be so close._

Daryl could sense that she was close—too close for comfort. However, in the unnerving darkness, he had no idea where to look to check on her. After a few more steps, he determined by the sounds of her footfalls that she was still behind him, but right on his heels. _Fantastic. _Knowing she would follow, he moved faster now, heading directly to the bedroom. He pushed open the door in one movement and slipped inside.

Inside, the curtains of the window were drawn back, allowing light to spill into the room. Daryl went to a nearby corner and stood, watching as Carol stepped inside. He sucked in a quick breath as he watched her entire body suddenly turn silver. Her beauty blew him away. She was perfect. She was incredible. She was magnificent. And the very sight of her made his body tingle with a painful pleasure. He desired her—he craved her, but knew he could not have her. He knew that he could not give her what she wanted.

Carol didn't look at him, but instead to the bed that was on the opposite wall of the window. She walked over and ran a tiny hand across the comforter. Daryl had been surprised when he found this house mostly intact. There were a few walkers, but the house was undamaged; no bloodstains, no dead bodies, there wasn't even a lot of dust. He knew that if he ever got the chance that it would be the perfect place to take Carol. In fact, when he saw the house, she was the first thing he thought of.

"So," she breathed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She pulled her legs tight together so her knees touched, but didn't cross them. Seeming to not know what to do with her hands, she placed them in her lap, palms pressed together. She looked toward him with innocent, naïve eyes.

Daryl's pants suddenly became tighter, as if that particular part of his body finally realized the situation it had put itself in. Casually, he glanced down to make sure it wasn't too noticeable. Luckily for him, it wasn't. That was the _last_ thing he needed.

"So," Daryl repeated. The word felt strange on his lips. He couldn't recall a time when he had ever said it on its own like that.

Carol stood suddenly and made her way across the room. Daryl tensed considerably, but otherwise did not move. She was less than a foot away now, staring up at him with those large, beautiful, imploring eyes. "Daryl," she whispered.

He struggled to hide his shiver.

An inch; she was an inch away now.

She leaned in closer, the inch now a centimeter. "Please."

* * *

Carol watched him carefully, anxiously awaiting his reaction. The hunter stared at her for a moment, his face impassive. His arms were at his sides, but his muscles were flexed and his hands were clenched. His face and eyes were entirely unreadable. After a few moments, Carol began to feel like a fool. Taking a few steps back, she knew her face had to betray her despondency. She should have known that it was foolish of her to want this—foolish to think that he would even—

She was cut off in the middle of her train of thought as Daryl grabbed her shoulders. Before she could process what was going on, the hunter yanked her close to him. In the next instant, their lips met.

It was awkward at first—his lips were entirely too big for her tiny mouth, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around her neck, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible. She felt his arms tighten around her waist, holding the rest of her flush against him. Their lips devoured each other's hungrily, Daryl's leading the little dance. Carol was astounded and touched by the hunger in his kiss. Had he been waiting for this just as long as she had? Had he been dreaming about it too?

She didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. All she knew was that she wanted Daryl Dixon more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life.

Desperate for more contact, she slipped her tongue between their battling lips, asking him for entrance. For a moment, her partner faltered. Carol was just about to retract it when she felt his own tongue slide forward to meet hers. Carol moaned slightly and began to run her fingers through his hair. Daryl's hands began to move along her back, still holding her close, but also caressing. She tightened her grip on his hair, which only seemed to elicit a moan from the hunter.

His hands slid to her waist and began to guide her backward toward the bed. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird's wings. Neither one broke the kiss until Carol's legs came into contact with the bed. Daryl drew back, gasping for breath. He didn't look at her, but instead averted his attention to the floor. Feeling bold, Carol took his face in both her hands and turned it toward her. "I said please," she whispered, staring into his uncertain blue orbs. "Now, don't be cruel and make me beg."

Daryl's eyes widened slightly. Carol just smiled and ran her hands down his neck and then his chest. His entire body was hot and he seemed to be beginning to break out in a sweat. She smiled slightly, enjoying, but also making note of the effect she had on him. Her hands continued to travel downward until they reached the waist of his pants. It was then that she noticed the tent that had been erected there.

She was just about to undo the button on his jeans when Daryl's large hands grabbed her wrists. Carol looked up at him, smiling slightly, but the expression on his face made it disappear. His face was hard, almost angry.

"No," he growled, taking a step back.

Rejection hit her like a kick in the gut. Before she could stop them, she felt the tears come. "I'm… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" the apologies spilled out of her swiftly. It had been a habit she had developed when living with Ed. She apologized to him so much—she had begged him not beat her so much—that now it just came naturally. She looked to the floor submissively. She had no idea what she did to anger him, but she didn't want to make it any worse.

A sigh slid from his lips. A moment later, the same, rough hands that had caressed her moments before grabbed hers. "Don't apologize," Daryl murmured. He was close to her again, maybe a few inches away. "I'm the one who's sorry… I just… I can't do this."

A tear escaped from the side of her eye. "Why? Am I not pretty enough?" she demanded. The pain that laced her voice only made it worse; she was so embarrassed.

"No!" Daryl assured her quickly. "No, it ain't that!"

"Why, then? It's because I'm old, isn't it?"

"No, goddamn it! It isn't you!" he snapped. She could tell that he was beginning to lose his patience, but she couldn't stop herself now.

"'It's not you, it's me', right?"

"Yes," Daryl answered. "It is me, Carol. I can't… I… I can't… I'm not…"

"What?" she prompted, squeezing his hand.

"I ain't… good… I ain't good enough, okay?" he practically hissed, jerking away from her. He turned around and began to walk toward the door.

She rushed after him. "Daryl, wait!" she called, grabbing his arm. With an exasperated sigh, he turned and looked at her impassively once more. "You're afraid that you aren't good enough for me?"

He gave her a glare that was more out of embarrassment than anything else.

She let out a small laugh, earning another, sharper glare. "That's what you're afraid of?" She stepped closer to him, locking her arms around his neck. "Daryl, that should be the least of your worries. I'm certain that you're fantastic."

The suddenly bashful hunter shook his head. "No, I'd disappoint you."

"No you wouldn't," she told him lightly, stroking his hair gently.

"Yes I—you know what, fuck this!" he shouted, tearing himself away from her. Carol watched in stunned silence as Daryl stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Daryl sat on the bottom step, his head in his hands. After storming out of the bedroom, he'd fled to the woods, killed a couple walkers to blow off steam, and then journeyed back to the house. No matter what he did, he knew that he would never get up enough courage to go back up to the bedroom, so he just sat there on the bottom step, wallowing in his self-pity.

His own stupidity astounded him. He was there, in the bedroom, with her, two seconds away from being on the bed, and what did he do?

Grimacing, Daryl could hear Merle's chastising again. _You sure you ain't gay, Darylena? Ya had the woman right there, and ya didn't take her! Fuckin' pussy. Ya'll be lucky if she even looks at ya again!_

He had stopped her, originally to make sure she was sure that it was what she wanted, but when she had reached for his pants, fear gripped him. Merle had made sure that Daryl had "gotten laid" but that was ages ago—in high school in fact. He hadn't had another woman since then, and he didn't know what the hell he was doing half the time. Carol had been married. She'd had a man before, probably many times. She'd had a daughter. She deserved someone more experienced—someone who could pleasure her the way she deserved. And that person was not Daryl Dixon.

And, what was worse, he still didn't know how he felt about her. He'd been tied to her for all this time, and now he was openly lusting for her. However, he still couldn't place the other feelings. His feelings for her went way beyond one night in bed. He knew how to describe it now; he knew the word, however, wasn't ready to admit it to anyone, not even himself.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The action made him remember how Carol had done the same, only a thousand times better. He could still feel her small, eager lips against his. He could still taste her tongue. He could still feel her tiny body pressed against his.

He sighed, and began to wonder how badly he had fucked things up this time.

* * *

A/N: Well. I'm off to the bomb shelter to protect myself from angry readers.

Did you like this chapter? No. Well... I'd still like to know. Review it up. Follow, favorite, yadayada. I have to pack now. Bye.


	7. Chapter 7

_Amaranthine - Chapter 7_

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**Well, to all of you who were very upset with Mr. Daryl in the last chapter, hopefully you'll like him more in this time around.**

** He's finally gotten his shit together.**

**Finally.**

**I know.**

**Hallelujah. **

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

**Sorry.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Carol didn't know when she had fallen asleep, all she remembered was waking up with the sun in her eyes. It took a her a few moments to get over her disorientation and figure out where she was. Then she remembered: Daryl, the house, Daryl, the bed, Daryl, the rejection, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl.

Where was Daryl?

She slid out of bed slowly, testing her frail body. Already she could feel the exhaustion and fatigue in her limbs. Between all the hard work she had been doing as of late, plus the previous night's events (at the farm, and with Daryl) she had no idea how much longer she was going to last. What she needed was a few days of recovery where she could relax and build up her strength. But she couldn't do that. Daryl had plans, and she didn't want to interfere. Besides, they needed to find the others before they left the highway.

Her muscles groaned with protest as she walked toward the door at a snail's pace. The moment she opened it, the sweet, rich scent of stew greeted her. In response, her stomach released a ravenous roar, driving her toward the stairs. They creaked as she descended, alerting anyone else in the house of her presence. Almost in response to her footsteps, she heard him make his way toward the vestibule where the stairs were located. She looked down at the steps as he entered the room.

"Mornin'," he greeted, his voice void of emotion. With a deep breath, she raised her eyes to him. Daryl stood in the threshold of the kitchen, leaning up against the door frame. His hands were in his pockets and his ankles were crossed lazily. His body suggested placidity, but his eyes were sharp and alive. There were no traces of the passion or hunger that he had shown the night before.

She didn't respond, and walked past him into the kitchen. On a small wood-powered stove in the corner, a pot of stew was just beginning to boil. "What's this?" she asked in a small, squeaky voice.

"I went huntin' before dawn… Shot some squirrels… Cooked ya breakfast," he said quietly, making his way toward her.

Carol nodded absently, watching him come closer out of the corner of her eye. He stopped about a foot away from her, his eyes running over her small form solicitously.

"I'm sorry about… about well… ya know," he murmured. "I didn't mean it… I just got… frustrated. Lord knows, I wantcha, Carol… I just…"

She faced him, her eyes running over his features. This Daryl was different from anything she'd seen before; he looked like a little boy waiting to get scolded by his mother. His eyes were bursting with remorse, and his giant body looked almost defeated. Carol let out a small sigh before taking one of his gigantic hands in hers. "It's okay, Daryl…"

The taciturn hunter stroked the back of her hand with his calloused thumb. "Hey," he murmured, his voice taking on that soft, affectionate tone she loved so much. "Ya ain't old, got that? And yer the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, so don't cha ever worry about stuff like that."

Carol's face felt like it was on fire. No one—not even Ed had told her that she had been beautiful. She always just assumed that she was so… average or ugly that everyone overlooked her. And now, there Daryl was, telling her everything she had always wanted to hear. She smiled widely and pulled him closer to her. For once, she didn't feel him stiffen at the gesture. As she wrapped her arms around his waist, he did the same to her, allowing her to press up against him and rest her head on his chest. Carol let out a contented sigh, unable to remember a time in her life when she had been happier. "Daryl?"

"Hmm?"

"Please don't leave again." Carol was a strong woman; she could take a beating, she could take being screamed at for hours on end, and she could take rejection. But she knew that she would not—she could not stand it if Daryl left her again. On the farm, things were different—there were others around for her to converse with, and live with, and rely on. Now, it was just the two of them, and she needed to count on him. She didn't need him to love her, she didn't need him to kiss her, or hold her, or touch her; she just needed him there. As long as he was near, she would be alright.

Daryl tightened his arms around her. "No, woman," he told her. His voice sounded half-strangled. "I just got ya back, I ain't leavin' ya. Imma make things right. I promise ya that."

* * *

"Daryl… where are they?"

The hunter looked around, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun. They had arrived at the highway, but there was no one in sight. The pair had walked down the road a ways to retrieve Daryl's motorcycle. By the time they had driven back, there was still no sign of the others. Daryl didn't want to worry her, but something was telling him that they hadn't made it out of the farm, and if they had, they certainly weren't heading for the highway.

"I dunno," he admitted, lowering his hand and placing it in hers. "We'll find 'em."

"How?" she demanded, looking up at him. Her crystalline eyes were doubtful and squinting due to the sunlight.

"Imma hunter, remember? I know how ta track," he assured her.

Carol sighed and folded her arms across her chest. Shifting her weight to one side, she gave him a dubious look. Daryl smirked slightly at the display. She looked unnaturally sarcastic, but managed to remain absolutely adorable at the same time. "Where do we start?"

Daryl was about to reply when the rumbling of an engine cut him off. They both turned to see an SUV coming up from the direction of the farm. Carol clutched his hand tightly, her body tensing. Daryl could practically feel the waves of hope rolling off her. He gave her hand a tiny squeeze and watched the car come closer.

Ever since their chat that morning, he'd felt more at ease around her. He vowed that he would no longer shy away from her touch. If she wanted him, he was there, no matter what insecurities or uncertainties he had. _I just got 'er back after everythin'… She needs me, and… and hell, I need 'er too. I ain't gonna fuck this up… I can't fuck this up. If I do, I ain't never gonna forgive myself._

The SUV came to a halt about ten feet away from them. Daryl watched in relief as Rick slid out of the driver's side. Carl followed behind him from the back, and Hershel from the passenger's side. The officer walked over slowly, his hands jammed in his pockets. Daryl studied him for a few moments, realizing that he was looking at a severely broken man. Rick looked exhausted—more so than usual. There were gray bags under his eyes and his entire body looked bruised and defeated.

"Lori…" Rick breathed, looking between him and Carol. "Have you seen Lori?"

Daryl looked away. Carol shook her head.

It was then that Rick noticed that the two were holding hands. A puzzled look came over him as he stared at their hands in confusion. He didn't speak, but nodded almost in acknowledgement. Daryl thought he saw Carol's lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile.

"Do you know where the others are?" she asked, glancing swiftly at the man beside her before reverting her attention to Rick.

Rick shook his head tiredly. "Naw… we… we had to split up. Maggie and Glenn got out—Hershel saw 'em… As for T-Dog, Beth… Lori… we don't know."

"Andrea? Shane? Jimmy?"

Daryl could hear the distress in her voice; the group had lost so many good people, so many friends. He knew he couldn't say anything with the others there—he had a reputation to keep—so he just squeezed her hand again.

"Jimmy was in the RV. It got overrun," Hershel explained. The older man's voice was hard, as if in an attempt to mask emotion.

"Did you find Andrea?" Carol asked. Her voice was now laced with panic. "I… She saved my life! After she saved me, she told me to run, and I did. I thought I saw a walker going toward her, but… I might've not… Did you see her? At all?"

When none of the others responded Carol, shook her head and turned away from them. Daryl watched her with concerned eyes as she dropped his hand and hugged herself. For the longest time, all five of them were silent. Then, Carol spoke, "It should have been me."

"Now hold on, just one goddamn second!" Daryl snapped, grabbing her upper arm as gently as he could in his anger. "It ain't yer fault if somethin' happened to 'er! Ya were doin' what you had ta so ya could survive! No one is blamin' ya for that, so stop blamin' yerself! I'm tired of ya always puttin' yerself down and actin' like yer nothin'! You're one of the few things keepin' this group together! Do ya get that? You're important!"

Carol looked at him with astonished, but pleased eyes. He refused to look at the others, not wanting them to ruin this. He never spoke out like this, and he knew they were probably staring at him like he was some kind of alien, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore, except for or no repuation, she was all he had. He needed her to believe that she was important to him if no one else.

After a long while, she smiled. "If you say so, Daryl Dixon."

* * *

A/N: Did you like this chapter? Leave a review and let me know! Please follow and favorite if you wanna keep up with the story. I love you guys so much! :D


	8. Chapter 8

_Amaranthine - Chapter 8_

* * *

**Kay, so I have a few things to say. I'd really appreciate it if you guys read this before reading the chapter.**

**With this story, I intend to focus more on Daryl and Carol's pasts than most other fics do. So there may or may not be flashbacks to Carol's life with Ed, or Daryl's life with his father and with Merle. There may not be full flashbacks, but their pasts are going to be referenced to a lot. I don't know much about their backstories - more of Daryl than Carol - so I'm just kinda wingin' it, but keeping as true to what we know as I can.**

**My reasoning for doin' this is that, well... these things wouldn't really go unnoticed if they did have a relationship. At least I don't think so. Right now, Ed is still very fresh in Carol's mind, so she is probably still going to be afraid of him, and possibly other men just out of habit. **

**Long story short, I am exploring their pasts and intertwining them with the story... So... yeah.**

**And I hope you guys put up with my bullshit.**

**I don't know if I like this chapter.**

**I dunno.**

**Well...**

**The Walking Dead does not belong to me.**

**Daryl Dixon doesn't belong to me either.**

**Damn it.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"We'll camp here tonight," Rick explained, rubbing his temples laboriously. We can venture a little farther into the woods tomorrow, but we'll stay in vicinity of the highway… That way if… Lori or the others come back, we'll hear 'em, or they'll find us."

"Look, they'll find us, Rick," Daryl tried to assure. "If they're out there, they'll know to come to the highway."

Carol looked over at him, unable to hide her affection. He had changed so much, and had come so far, they both had. Daryl was still the aggressive, taciturn hunter he'd always been, but now, he was letting a new, different side of him show. It was a softer side, an almost happier side. She liked to think that she had played a role in this transformation process, but she knew that it wasn't herself that she was proud of, but Daryl. However, Daryl wasn't the only one who had changed for the better. Carol-the shy, timid, mousy-haired housewife-was a survivor. She was the only one in her entire family to last this long. She had found the strength to carry on and to keep fighting. And she wasn't ashamed to admit that it was all thanks to the man at her side.

Rick let out a defeated sigh before looking at the abandoned cars around them. Carol followed his eyes, wondering if she should volunteer to try to salvage supplies. Before she could offer, Daryl spoke, almost as if he read her thoughts.

"This place's stripped clean," he remarked, adjusting his crossbow on his shoulder. "We didn't leave much when we left fer the farm."

"We can still look around a bit," Carol protested softly. Her voice was small with uncertainty. If she had spoken out like that in Ed's presence, he would've beaten her until she bled. She could hear his gravelly voice in her head, _"You disrespectin' me, ya worthless bitch? Huh? Answer me ya whore!"_ Carol instinctively backed away from the men around her, her body shaking.

"Carol?" Daryl's anxious voice called, snapping her out of her flashback.

Her eyes snapped to his troubled face. His eyes were wide with confusion and apprehension. "Are ya alright?"

She struggled to regain her composure. She could still hear Ed's voice and smell his putrid breath. Her breath would suddenly no longer come; her lungs felt like a cement block had been placed on them.

"Carol!" Daryl's angelic voice was beginning to face in and out of comprehension. "Carol, answer me! Carol!"

Her limbs suddenly lost their feeling, and her vision began to blur. She felt herself falling, but never seemed to hit the ground. She just kept going down, down, down. Yet, she still managed to see Daryl—he now seemed to be hovering over her, gazing down with agonized eyes. His lips were moving, but she could no longer hear him. She wanted to keep him in her sights—watch him as long as she could, but as the blackness threatened to engulf her, she felt a twinge of panic claw at her insides. Her hunter was beginning to disappear—eaten away by the darkness.

Carol opened her mouth, trying to call out. She wanted him with her. She had no idea where she was going to go, but she knew she wanted Daryl. As he faded entirely from her view, she let out an anguished cry before she too, lost herself in the emptiness around her.

* * *

"HERSHEL, DO SOMETHING!" Daryl bellowed at the old man.

"Daryl, calm the fuck down!" Rick snarled in response, but the hunter ignored him. He didn't understand-the woman he cared about was not lying unconscious on the blacktop.

Hershel checked Carol's vital signs, ignoring Daryl's shouts and focusing intently on his work. Daryl watched him with furious eyes and a flushed face, but kept his mouth shut. Rick watched his friend carefully, studying him and preparing to jump in between him and Hershel if something went wrong.

Finally, the farmer looked toward the redneck, his eyes impassive. "She is just unconscious it looks like. No bites or scratches, no fever… Right now, it looks like she's suffering from exhaustion, possibly dehydration. She's smaller than the rest of us-Carl not included-and she isn't used to such physical strain."

"So, she just… collapsed?" Rick inquired. Daryl looked toward him, prepared to give his friend a seething glare, but the deputy's curious eyes stopped him.

"Yes," the doctor replied. "Can't say that I blame her-she's been through more than enough ever since she came to my farm. Lost 'er daughter, then found her as… one o' them, then there was the whole Randall business, then the farm got overrun, ran for her life until Daryl found 'er. Woman's been through a helluva lot."

"We all have," Rick replied.

Daryl couldn't help the annoyance that rose within him at the deputy's comment. Sure we all have, Rick… but this woman has been through more than any o' us. You gotta admit that. He looked down at Carol once more, his eyes focusing only on her face. It looked beautiful, as always, but oddly peaceful. People always look peaceful in death, he thought before he could control it. He gritted his teeth. Damn you, Daryl.

"I'm gonna set up the tent so Carol doesn't have to lie out here in the sun all day," he declared, pushing himself to his feet.

"I'll help ya," Rick offered, but the hunter waved his hand away lazily.

"Don't bother. Go look though the other cars—Carol's right we can still look. Mighta missed somethin'," he dismissed. Not giving the deputy a chance to disagree, he strode across the highway toward the tree-line, grabbing a pack that sat next to Hershel's SUV.

He always felt more comfortable close to the forest—it was the one place that he could always feel at home, even now that it was swarming with the walking dead. When he was a boy, it had been his only refuge. After his mother died in the house fire and Merle took off, Daryl was left all alone with his drunken father. Whenever he wasn't going into to fits of rage and beating the shit out of him, Daryl's father slept in his chair in the living room, leaving his son to his own devices. The boy found interest in his father's knives and other weapons. He practiced with the knives whenever his father slept, throwing them at nearby trees, occasionally aiming at a squirrel or two. As he got older, he began to swipe his father's hunting crossbow for a while and head off into the woods. There, he found peace, and there he could be himself. He didn't have to worry about the other kids at school laughing at him and calling him filthy white trash. He didn't have to worry about whether or not his father was going to beat him later. He didn't have to worry about Merle getting thrown in prison and not being able to come back for him.

In the woods, he was a new person.

In the woods, he could be Daryl Dixon without an ounce of shame.

Things were different now, of course. He wasn't the scared little boy that he had been. He knew how to take care of himself and learned to never take shit from anybody. He had grown in confidence and gave the middle finger to the selfish, heartless idiots that surrounded him. Yet, the woods still had a calming effect on him. It had a comforting scent and air about it, and brought back memories—some joyful, some simple, some bittersweet and some crippling. Daryl found the sensation similar to an adult walking back into the room, or finding a long forgotten toy they'd had as a child. It had a nostalgic sense, but also offered them a wave of serenity, soothing them now the same way it did when they were young.

As he slid carelessly over the guardrail, he let out a small, almost contented sigh. He landed with a soft thud on the grass and proceeded toward the edge of the forest. Even though he worried about Carol and her condition, he still relished the feeling of being in his element. He tossed the pack he'd taken on the grass and began to look for a level spot to set up the tent. It didn't take him very long, and soon, the tent was pitched and ready for Carol.

He trekked up the gentle slope to the highway and crossed the guardrail once more. Carol was still lying on the blacktop, her body limp, and her eyes shut. Rick and Carl were nowhere to be seen-most likely scoping out the area. Hershel was still kneeling beside the small, silver-haired woman, taking her pulse. As Daryl approached, he glanced up. "Her pulse is still relatively strong," he relayed, removing his hand from her wrist. "However, when she wakes up, you'll wanna start getting some food and water in 'er."

Daryl nodded, silently cursing himself. _I knew I shoulda made her eat more at breakfast! Damn woman's skinny as a twig! Now she's dehydrated and exhausted… Hell, ya'd think she'd say somethin'! Unless…_ he stopped, not wanting to even entertain the possibility that Carol was too afraid of him to tell him she wasn't feeling well enough to travel. The idea made him furious-not at her, but at the scumbag that planted the fear in her in the first place. He didn't know how many times he had been laying in his tent back in the quarry and heard the painful sobs coming from nearby. He and Merle had set up their camp deeper into the woods than the others, so whenever someone in the main camp needed to escape, they seemed to subconsciously run in their direction. Daryl heard her often, crying and apologizing to her little girl even though the kid was nowhere to be seen. He didn't want to think about what Ed had done to her in front of Sophia, or of what Ed had done to the poor kid. He had wanted to go to her a few times—maybe give her some herbs to soothe the pain, or tell her that he knew all too well what it was like to get beat.

But he never did.

Between his own stupid pride and Merle's jests, he never went to her.

But God, how he wished he had.

Maybe things would be different now, he thought. _Maybe I wouldn't be so damn terrified o' screwin' things up… As if I haven't already._ He winced at the memory of their short time in the bedroom. _Fuckin' hell, Daryl. Yer the biggest idiot I've ever met._

"Tent set up?" Hershel suddenly queried, breaking the tracker from his reverie.

He nodded stiffly. "I'll take 'er down," Daryl stated more than offered. To his relief, Hershel didn't ask questions or give him any smart remarks; the old man just nodded and let him be. And for that reason, Daryl already liked Hershel better than all of the other imbeciles in the group.

As the hunter gathered his small, mousy woman in his arms, Rick and Carl came into view, walking side-by-side. Daryl glanced up at them, just in time to see Rick put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. For a moment, the tracker stopped, wondering what exactly had been said. He never really missed having those kinds of moments with his father—they were never really needed in Daryl's case; he had Merle. Yet, as he watched the pair share a small moment, Daryl couldn't help but internally wince at the gesture.

Cradling Carol in his arms, Daryl walked away from his three companions and back toward the tent he had assembled. He entered awkwardly, trying his best not to do anything to harm Carol. The woman was as light as a feather in his arms and had no problem carrying her, he was more worried about breaking her in half than dropping her. He laid her on the blanket he'd set down earlier, and then stepped back. Daryl watched her for a moment, his eyes traveling over her body reverently. She was unearthly beautiful; of course, Daryl had always known this, but he never seemed to truly acknowledge or appreciate it. He'd never really taken the time to just step back and look at her. Everything—her short hair, the soft lines of her face, her slender neck, tiny body, and… her small, pink lips...

Memories of their kiss flooded back to him. Before Daryl could get a grip on himself, he felt his pants grow unnecessarily tight. Cursing under his breath, he slipped out of the tent, furious with himself. If it were any other woman, Daryl would have fucked her senseless by now, mainly because he wouldn't care about what happened afterward. But the fact was: it wasn't just any woman, it was Carol. Daryl was not a religious man, but at that moment, he said a prayer. He'd lost his mother when he was still just a boy, his father never gave a damn, and now Merle was gone. Carol was all he had left, and all he cared about anymore. At that moment, he prayed that nothing happened to her. He needed her there, with him. Despite the fact that he had tried so hard to deny it, he could do so no longer. If anything happened to her… Daryl didn't know what he'd do.

But he did know one thing that he was absolutely certain of: Carol Peletier was going to be the death of him.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter seems like a bit of a filler. More will happen in the next one. I promise.

Dare I ask for a review?


	9. Chapter 9

_Amaranthine - Chapter 9_

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**Hopefully, this chapter will make up for the uneventful previous chapter.**

**Hehe.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

When she woke, her vision was warped. It looked as if the colors of her surrounding had been smeared together by a little kid playing with finger paints. Carol blinked her eyes a few times, the blurred sight only adding to the pounding in her head. She struggled to recall what had happened, but her memory seemed to be failing. Where was she? How did she get there? Where was Daryl?

Finally, her eyesight seemed to return to normal. It was then she realized that she was lying in a familiar place—one that she had seen before many times: Daryl Dixon's tent. Slowly, but surely, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head, she sat up. Her hunter was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear voices outside the tent. It sounded like Rick giving someone instructions—Carl, maybe? Carol longed to go check. She felt like she had been away from her group—her family—for entirely too long, even though it had only been a day or two. Maybe more, depending on how long she had been unconscious.

With a grunt, Carol rolled over so she was on her hands and knees. The fatigue that had plagued her muscles before her slumber was long gone. It felt as if someone had breathed fresh, new life into her. Just as she was beginning to push herself to her feet, she heard the flap of the tent pull back, and a familiar, gruff voice snap, "What tha hell are ya doin', woman?!"

Before she could answer, she felt hands grip her upper arms and gently guide her back to the blanket she'd been resting on. "Daryl!" she protested. She tried to squirm away, but the hunter held her in an iron grip, pushing her gently against the ground. It was only then that Carol noticed their position: Daryl was pinning her to the ground beneath him. He was only partially hovering over her, but it was still enough to make a pleasurable jolt shoot through her core.

"Hush, woman. Ya gotta rest," he answered. His voice was soft, and husky, just as it had been the last time he'd been so close to her. "Ya passed out from dehydration and exhaustion accordin' ta Hershel. Now, I wan' an answer: why didn't ya tell me ya were so damn tired? If ya were in pain, ya shoulda said somethin'! I ain't heartless, ya know."

Carol didn't answer—she didn't think she could. All she could do was lie there at his mercy, staring into those misty blue eyes. She couldn't recall a time she'd felt so alive. Even her time in the bedroom back at the house could not compare to being pinned beneath Daryl Dixon.

Daryl, seeming to realize that he wasn't gonna get an answer out of her, leaned down slightly until his face was less than an inch away from hers. "Next time, ya tell me, got it? No more hidin' shit. I'm here ta help ya, not hurt ya, but I can't do that if ya keep things from me."

Her heart was beating so loudly, she was almost positive that he could hear it.

The hunter smirked, seeming pleased with the effect he had on her. A moment later, his smirk faded. The next thing Carol new, his lips were against hers. The kiss was soft, but she could sense the urgency in it. She had worried him. Touched, she kissed him back gentle, following his lead. She didn't want him to recoil away from her like he had last time. This time, however, Daryl seemed much less guarded. He shifted closer to her until their chests touched. His hands left her arms as he leaned on his elbows, trying to keep the majority of his weight off her. One of his hands then ghosted up her neck to her face. It cupped her cheek and pulled her closer slightly.

Carol took his as a cue to touch him as well. She locked her arms around his neck, trying to get even closer to him. The next thing she knew, she felt him drawing back slowly, almost reluctantly. A whimper escaped her throat, but she let him go. The last thing she wanted was to push the matter.

Daryl was gasping for breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Carol was the same way, but with a smile on her face. Even though she wanted more, she was content with that if it meant being close to him. After a minute or two of trying to pull himself together, Daryl locked eyes with her. He grinned at her like a giddy schoolboy, before rolling away from her.

Neither of them spoke for a while, until the normally taciturn hunter broke silence. "Never do that ta me again, Carol," he whispered, his voice sounding strained. "The passin' out, I mean. Ya scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," she breathed, still winded from their kiss. "How long 'ave I been out?"

Daryl sat up, and faced her. "Ehh… Maybe two or three days," he estimated with a shrug.

Her eyes widened. "_That _long?!"

She heard a chuckle escape his lips. "Yeah, you were pretty bad off it seemed… Oh, and you never answered my question: Why didn't ya tell me ya were havin' trouble? I ain't a slave driver for Christ's sake."

"I know… but it was important that we got here to find the others."

An almost stern look crossed his face as Daryl leaned closer to her again. "Carol, ya listen, and ya listen good: nothin' is more important than keepin' ya safe and healthy. Ya're all I got left, an' I don't intent ta lose ya anytime soon."

Her heart fluttered. No none had ever said that too her before—no one had ever cared about her that much. At that moment, she felt like everything in her life was finally going right. Just months a few months ago, she had been the victim of her own husband, and now, she was Daryl Dixon's most valued and most beloved treasure.

Not bothering to answer him, she took his face in her hands and pulled him down to her again. A passionate frenzy began the moment their lips met, and at that moment, Carol Peletier had never been so happy in her entire life.

* * *

A bewildered Daryl Dixon kissed her back, letting her take the lead this time. He wasn't expecting her to reach for him again, but he could hardly turn her down again. There was a hunger in Carol's lips that made him shiver in pleasure. Her tiny, soft hands ran along his cheeks, down his neck and then around to the back of his head. Daryl let out a groan as he felt her begin to run her fingers through his hair. He felt her smile between his lips at the sound. The next thing Daryl knew, he felt her tongue prodding at his lower lip, asking for entrance. He granted it, and extended his own tongue to meet hers.

Daryl needed to me closer to her. He moved closer, trying to get on top of her without breaking the kiss. He felt Carol spread her legs to give him space. His manhood twitched at the gesture, and got even more excited as Daryl into the newly opened space.

Carol's hands abandoned his hair and began to run down his shoulders and biceps. Daryl let out another low moan and deepened the kiss. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, his logical, responsible side was screaming at him to get a grip. He couldn't do this now—the poor woman just woke up from being sick, and the others didn't even know she was awake yet.

Then, Daryl felt her hands go to the top button on his sleeveless shirt. A red flag went up in his head. Reluctantly, he began to pull away. The whimper that escaped her lips made him wince. "I'm sorry, woman," he breathed in her face. "Not today." He planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and pulled away from her again.

As he got off her, Carol sat up, and ran a hand through her short hair. Daryl watched her carefully, studying her face. It looked as if there was something that she wanted to say, but refrained from doing so. He long to ask her what it was, but then remembered Hershel's prior instructions. "Wait 'ere," he instructed before slipping out of the tent.

Daryl hadn't realized how hot he had become until he was greeted with the chilly morning breeze. He let out a sigh of relief, glad for the cold. He shook his head in an effort to clear it, but it did little. Carol's distinctive, floral scent now clung to his clothes, and his skin. She seemed to be all around him now, making it impossible to escape.

Did that woman honestly have no idea what she did to him?

* * *

Daryl returned in a few minutes with a jug of water and what looked like a roasted squirrel. He sat down on the floor next to her and handed her the water. "Drink up, woman. Doctor's orders."

Carol took the container and raised it to her lips. The water unnaturally cool, and she relished the feeling of it sliding down her throat. She gulped down a quarter of the jug before placing it on the ground beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Daryl watching her. With a small, sheepish, smile, she wiped her lips. "I guess I was really thirsty…"

He smirked slightly. "Yeah, well, I tried to get some water in ya when ya were passed out, but I didn't wanna give ya too much in case ya drowned on me. The doc helped me with it."

She nodded. "Thank you," she murmured. "For looking after me."

His smirk became a grin. "Don't mention it, woman."

The flap of the tent was pulled back revealing a familiar face. "How are you doing?" Maggie inquired with a friendly smile.

Carol stared at her in disbelief for a moment before turning her attention to Daryl. "Why didn't you tell me the others were back!?" she demanded before rushing to give the younger woman a hug.

The hunter snorted. "Never came up… We were a little busy after all," he replied with devious grin.

Heat flooded her cheeks. She shot a quick glance at Maggie to make sure that she hadn't picked up on Daryl's suggestive words. If the young woman had understood Daryl's subliminal message, she didn't indicate it. "Beth is outside too, she's been dying to see you, but I made her wait. I didn't want you to be bombarded with too much attention."

"Oh, that's more than alright! Let her come in!" she insisted, unable to keep from smiling. "I'm so glad you're all okay!"

Maggie's face fell slightly. "Well… not all of us."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Daryl interjected, shooting Maggie a dark look. "Bring Beth in. Now."

Carol looked toward the hunter, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. As Maggie left, she shifted closer to Daryl. "What did she mean?" she asked, her voice small, almost fearful. She did not want to invoke the rage that she knew lurked just beneath the surface of every Dixon she'd come across.

"I said don't worry 'bout it," he repeated. He didn't look at her, and his face remained impassive—neither reassuring, sad, or angry. It troubled her.

The flap of the tent was pulled back once more as the small, slender blond girl entered. Carol embraced her immediately and held the girl close. "Beth, I am so glad you're alright!"

The young girl held Carol close, sniffling as tears sprung to her innocent blue eyes. "We thought you were dead! We couldn't find you… And Andrea…" she trailed off, a sob rising in her throat.

Daryl cursed quietly, earning a sharp glance from Carol. The older woman cradled Beth in her arms and stroked her hair. "It'll be alright, Beth. Everything will be alright."

"Jimmy is dead!" the blond blurted out. "And Patricia… Oh, Patricia! She was helping me get away from the house and then one of those… those _monsters _grabbed her! There was nothing I can do, they just started ripping her apart!"

"Goddamn it," Daryl muttered. "Maggie!"

The older Greene sister came into the tent and began to gently try to soothe Beth. Carol refused to let the blond go, insisting that it was fine. Then, Daryl intervened. "Maggie, take yer damn sister outta here!"

Beth was shaking from her sobs as Maggie finally pried her away from Carol. As the two sisters left the tent, Daryl zipped the flap shut behind them. Carol glowered at him. "What the hell was that, Daryl?" she hissed, folding her arms across her chest.

"I told 'em both that they could see ya if they didn't upset ya!" he responded, his voice tinged with the anger that was already boiling.

"They didn't upset me!" she insisted with exasperation. "They were just relieved to see me! They've both lost so many people, and poor Beth! The girl just witnessed a woman get devoured by walkers not three feet away! And she lost her boyfriend when the farm was destroyed! Of course she's gonna behave like that!"

Daryl let out an irritated sigh through his teeth. "Look, ya've been unconscious for about three days now, and I wanna make sure that ya're perfectly fine before everyone starts fussin' over ya, and believe me: they _will _fuss over ya!"

Carol smiled slightly. "What can I say? I'm popular."

He rolled his eyes, but she saw his lips twitch slightly. "I just wanna make sure that—"

"Daryl, I'm fine. Trust me."

Another sigh passed from his lips. "If ya're sure…" he muttered, clambering over to the entrance of the tent. She watched as he unzipped the flap and held it open for her. "Into the fire we go."

* * *

A/N: Hehe, did you enjoy? Leave a review and let me know! If you like this story and would like to read more, please feel free to follow and favorite! :D


	10. Chapter 10

_Amaranthine - Chapter 10_

* * *

**Well... yeah... This chapter...**

**Yeah...**

**Daryl lets go.**

**A lot.**

**All the emotions-all the pain and all the loss and all the fear-have finally consumed him.**

**I don't end The Walking Dead**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

The moment she emerged from her tent, Carol was lavished with attention. Lori, Rick, Hershel, T-Dog and Glenn all came over to her. Maggie and Beth followed a few seconds later, Beth still trembling. Carol greeted them all with a cheerful smile and gave them each a friendly hug. Once they made sure that she was alright, they each went back to their duties, as if nothing had happened.

Only Hershel and Daryl remained at her side then. "What's tha matter, boy?" Hershel queried in a cheerful voice, his eyes fixated on Daryl. "Ya look pale."

The hunter shrugged. "Ain't used to so many people and so much attention, if it ain't directed at me," he answered. He turned to Carol with an uncertain look on his face. "I gotta go huntin'—we're almost outta food. If ya don't want me to go, I can tell Rick—"

She shook her head. "No, no, that's fine. I'll be alright."

Daryl looked unconvinced. He took a knife that had been hooked to one of his belt loops and handed it to her. It was still in the sheath, and Carol made no attempt to take it out. "Take it," he ordered. "Keep yerself safe, alright? I'll be back as soon as I can."

Carol nodded, holding the sheathed knife by the handle. "Okay. You be safe too, okay?"

He smirked. "Don't worry 'bout me, woman." With that, he turned away from her. Carol watched him go, an emptiness already rising in her chest. She missed him and he wasn't even gone yet. _God help me, if something ever happens to that man…_

"And how are you feeling?" Hershel asked, breaking her from her reverie.

"Better," she admitted. "I feel fine, actually."

"Good, that rest helped. Ya should thank 'im," the old man suggested, nodding toward Daryl who was now talking with Rick on the other side of the small camp they'd set up. "That man hardly left your side when you were sick."

Carol knew she was blushing. She looked at her boots sheepishly. "He's a great guy."

Hershel smiled kindly at her. "Daryl is a good man. Rick trusts him, and that makes him good enough for me. I had to admit though, I was a little dubious about having him at my farm, given his… hotheadedness, but when I saw him rush over to you when you fainted, I knew that I had nothing to worry about. I saw a side of him that I'd never seen—a side that I knew he would never expose to strangers unless he had no choice. He acts like he doesn't care the majority of the time, but I think it's safe to say that everyone here sees through him; that's just the way he is. So, even if he declares otherwise, that man cares for you. Don't doubt it for a minute. Daryl may not even know the extent of his feelings, but they exist."

Carol looked down at her feet, embarrassed. She looked toward her taciturn hunter and smiled as Daryl threw his hands up in the air at something that Rick said, and then proceeded to curse at him. He was a rugged guy on the outside, but on the inside, he was the sweetest man she'd ever met. Her heart swelled with affection as she gazed at Daryl Dixon. A thought arose in her mind—a thought she never even dreamed would ever cross her mind.

She loved Daryl Dixon.

"I care for him too," she said, even though it was practically insulting the way she truly felt.

"I know you do," the older man replied with a smile. "I can see it in your eyes whenever you look at him. I'm glad that we are able to find happiness, even now when the world seems to have fallen apart. If not for this, Maggie would have never met Glenn, and you would have never met Daryl."

Carol shuddered. She didn't want to think about a life without him.

* * *

Twilight was just beginning to take hold when Daryl came back to the camp with a button-buck slung over his shoulder. Its abdomen had been sliced open from where he'd gutted it, and blood still occasionally dripped from the deer down the hunter's arms. His hands were stained crimson, and he knew the scent of fresh blood was attracting walkers, but he was too tired to care. He'd left quite a feast of guts a few miles away that would hopefully keep any walkers nearby busy.

The group was gathering around the one of the fires. To Daryl's dismay, a village of tents had sprung up around his. Didn't these people understand that he wanted to get away from them? That's why he always moved his own stuff so far away from him. No matter what he seemed to do—no matter how unfriendly and unwelcoming he acted, they were still attracted to him like moths to a flame. Were they really that desperate?

As he approached the fire, his eyes scanned the crowd for Carol. Ever since the episode in the tent that morning, he had hardly been able to keep his mind off her. All day, he'd been distracted by her lingering scent. He kept imagining her lips on his, and her small fingers running through his untidy hair. He suppressed a shiver at the thought. Luckily, for now, she didn't seem to be with the others. A moment after his initial relieve, anxiety grabbed him by the balls. If she wasn't with the others then where was she? Had something happened? Did she go off by herself and never came back? Did anyone know? Did they even care?

"Yes! The hunter returns!" Glenn exclaimed, almost jumping to his feet.

Daryl did his best to not glare at the kid. Well, he's got enthusiasm… Annoying as hell, though. "Here," he said in response, dropping the deer at the Asian boy's feet. "Ya so excited 'bout it? Ya skin it yerself. I'm dead tired."

Without waiting for a response, Daryl turned away from them, heading toward his tent. He knew that it was the most logical place she'd be. The fear was still there, and rising with every moment he didn't know where she was.

He silently cursed her for having such an effect on him. Why did she matter anyway? She was just a skinny, gray-haired woman that probably wouldn't last the winter if the walkers didn't get her first. Yet, she brought something out of Daryl Dixon that no one had been able to even find before. She made him let his guard down; she plunged through his hard, thick outer walls that everyone had assumed to be impenetrable. She helped his icy heart to melt just enough where she could lay claim to it. For somehow he knew back at the farm when he had listened to her cry every night for her daughter, when he given her all the comfort a Dixon knew how to give, when he had given her the Cherokee Rose—deep down, he knew that he belonged to her. Whether she wanted him or not—whether their awkward, clumsy relationship ever ventured past him holding her in his arms on the day Sophia was found—he knew that her name would always be tattooed across his heart in an ink so permanent, so durable, so amaranthine that it would never fade.

He knew that then as he approached his tent. He thought about their kisses, their gentle touches, and their friendship that was now in a state of metamorphosis. Their kisses—the way he'd pinned her beneath him that morning in the tent and kissed her until he could hardly breathe—he knew all of that would change the way they looked at one another. It petrified him. It was not that he was afraid of making a commitment to her, or that he was fearful that he would regret tying himself to her.

It was that he was terrified that he would lose her.

He knew that if he ever did wholly given in to her and make her his, he would not be able to bare her death.

And in his world, death was inevitable and unpredictable.

* * *

He found in her exactly where he had hoped she'd be: in his tent. When he pulled back the flap, he was greeted with a very tired Carol lying on the blanket he'd set down days ago. Her back was to him, but he could see the faint rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. At least she was okay. Daryl didn't know what he'd do if anything happened to her.

Carol rolled over, an irritated look on her face. For a moment, she looked like she was going to reprimand him for disturbing her, but then, she saw who it was. Her crystalline eyes immediately brightened as she sat up. "Daryl! You're back!"

He nodded. "Yeah. Got a deer—Glenn's out there skinnin' it." Feeling awkward and somewhat useless, he looked around the tent for something to distract himself from her petit body that seemed to be calling for him. "There's another tent ova' there," he said, pointing to a small bag that had been hidden away in the corner. "In case ya wanna… move inta yer own tent…"

To his joy, her face fell slightly. "Oh…" she whispered, looking at the bag despondently. "Ya want me outta your hair, huh?" she teased, but there was genuine hurt in her voice.

Daryl scrambled to fix his mistake. "Naw, that ain't it! I was just… offerin'… I mean… Fuck, I don't want ya ta leave, I just… I didn't know if ya wanted ta stay."

Carol smiled widely. "Of course I wanna stay."

"Good," he replied, trying to hide his own smile that was threatening to show.

After a few moments of silence, Carol broke it. "You know, you were gone so long that, for a while there, I thought you weren't coming back," she teased.

Even though there was no meaning in her words, they socked him right in the gut. He thought of back at the farm when he had left them—left her. Guilt pierced him like a knife; maybe Andrea, Jimmy, and Patricia wouldn't be dead if he had stayed. Carol nearly died because he hadn't been there.

She saw his wounded look, and immediately tried to remedy the situation. "Gosh, Daryl, I didn't mean anything by it! I didn't really think that you'd leave, it was just a joke. I was just… just trying to say that I missed you."

He met her eyes and gave her a small grin. "I know… I just…" he trailed off. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but he refrained from doing so. Dixons, especially Dixon men, rarely shared their feelings with one another let alone outsiders. They always kept whatever pain or whatever feelings they had bottled up inside. They always kept a stony, impassive expression; Daryl learned it from Merle, and Merle learned it from their father. It was just the way they were—nonverbal and volatile.

Carol watched him with a sad countenance. "Daryl… you know that you can tell me anything, right?"

"I don't gotta tell ya nothin'!" he snapped in response. It wasn't that he was mad at her for giving him the opportunity to open up, the response was just a reflex. Plus, it was himself that he was angry with; angry that he couldn't tell her what he felt, angry that he couldn't express his feelings for her.

Angry.

Dixons were always angry.

To his relief, she didn't flinch away from his harsh words. "It's alright, you can yell and scream all you want," she said. Her voice was oddly calm; it made him uneasy. "But please, Daryl, I ask you, don't push me away from you. Not after… not after everything. I want to help you. You know that… don't you?"

He nodded, no longer trusting himself to speak.

"I know you, Daryl Dixon, and I know that you feel guilty for leaving us back at the farm. And I know that this… this resentment is just a way to cover it up. You did the same thing when we found Sophia in that barn, and when you, Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog couldn't find Merle. I know that it's just your way of coping with things. And it's okay. Do whatever makes you feel better."

Carol's words astonished him. No one had ever been so understanding, or so respectful of his bizarre ways. As Daryl stared at her, sitting on that blanket, looking up at him with the most trusting and affectionate look that he had ever seen, he was overwhelmed with a new emotion; one that took him by surprise and made him curse himself.

The tears were falling before he could stop them.

* * *

A/N: Don't despise me, please.

Review?


	11. Chapter 11

_Amaranthine - Chapter 11_

* * *

**Hey guys.**

**For those of you that haven't already seen it, I have a new Caryl fic called "Kiss Away My Sins". It takes place pre-season 1 as well as during the season itself. If you wanna check it out, you can find it on my profile, I'd appreciate it if you at least gave it a look. :)**

**Anyway, on with this chapter.**

**Yeah.**

**Well.**

**Yeah.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Carol saw the tears in Daryl's eyes, but ignored them. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him. The entire scene was so surreal; Daryl Dixon was standing there, trying not to cry. One of the tears overflowed from his eye and slid down his cheek. Carol pushed herself to feet and slowly closed the space in between them.

His eyes never left her.

She raised her hand to his face, and dried the tear with her thumb. "Do whatever makes you feel better," she whispered again. Her lips inches from hers. "Don't be ashamed—it's just me here."

Before she could even process what was happening, Daryl had her in his arms and flush against his body. Carol held him close to her, rubbing his back gently. He buried her face into his shoulder, occasionally peppering her neck and exposed shoulder skin with feverish kisses. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" he breathed. Every time his voice broke, her heart did the same. "I should have been here… I should have been there to protect them… To protect you. All those people… they're gone… Gone forever because of me… And when I came back and didn't see you… I immediately thought the worst…"

"Shh, shh," she soothed, now stroking his hair. "It's not your fault, Daryl. You can't be like that."

"I didn't even think about helping the others then! I didn't care what happened to them, I just went after you! I didn't try to help Patricia and Beth, or look for Andrea! I looked for you… I might've stopped it… I might've helped them, but I didn't! I might have if…if I had been there!" he protested. Carol could feel his tears dripping onto her bare skin and soaking through the fabric of her shirt. "If I had been there… If I hadn't been so weak…. If I had learned to control myself and not… If I hadn't been so afraid…"

"Afraid?" she inquired softly. She didn't want to pry—he was doing so well, but she couldn't help.

He nodded his head weakly in response, squeezing her gently.

"What were you afraid of, Daryl?"

A small whimper escaped his throat. He seemed to be fighting himself so hard; trying to suppress the emotions that he had held inside him for so long. "You… I was afraid of you… Afraid of what I felt… Afraid of what it meant."

Her breath hitched. "How… What did you feel…?"

Daryl pulled away to look at her. His face was flushed, the skin around his eyes puffy, and tears still threatening to fall in his beautiful blue orbs. For the first time since Carol had known him, Daryl Dixon looked broke and lost. He sucked in an uncertain breath before shaking his head. "I…"

He never got to finish.

"Daryl!" Rick's voice sounded right outside the tent.

The hunter immediately wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. "Yeah?" he called back, his voice now void of emotion.

Carol was taken aback by his ability to gather himself so quickly.

"Can ya take first watch?"

"Sure," Daryl replied, looking at the floor of the tent. "When d'ya want me out?"

"Well we're about ta start cookin' tha deer. So sometime after supper," the deputy responded.

The hunter nodded even though it couldn't be seen. "Alright. Jus' lemme know."

Rick's footsteps died away as he returned to the others, leaving the two of them alone once more. Carol was unsure of what to do know; should she reach out to him? Try to touch him? Encourage him to go on with what he was about to say?

Daryl suddenly laughed. "Shit. I haven't cried since I was a kid… I'm sorry 'bout that. It ain't like me. I jus'… thinkin' about those people… thinkin' about Merle… thinkin' 'bout what coulda happen ta ya… I jus'… well…."

Carol gave him a small smile. "It's alright. You don't need to apologize, Daryl."

"Ya won't tell no one?"

Her smile widened. "'Course not."

"Good. 'Cause if ya did, ya and I would have ta have a little chat," he said mischievously.

"Would it be a chat that I'd enjoy?" she asked cheerfully. She was astounded by how turned on she was by the thought of a devious, harsh Daryl doing God-knows-what to her.

He smirked. "Depends on what ya enjoy, woman."

Feeling bold, Carol sauntered closer to him, swaying her hips as seductively as her small form could allow. "Would you like to give me an example of this… chat?"

Daryl chuckled. "Maybe later. I better go check on Glenn, making sure that he isn't destroyin' my deer."

Slightly disappointed, Carol got on her tip-toes and kissed his lips slowly. The hunter let out a soft moan as she curled her fingers through his hair. She worked on deepening the kiss, pulling him close and prodding at his lips with her tongue. Daryl opened his mouth for her. His hands rested on her hips before looping around the small of her back. Carol began to kiss him harder pressing her body to his. She wanted so desperately to persuade him to show her what he meant by "chat" when he came to bed that night.

After a few minutes of this kiss, Daryl drew back. The both of them were breathing heavily, and beaming. "Yeah…" he said breathlessly. "Definitely later."

* * *

The moon shone down on the camp, bathing it in its ghostly light. Daryl stood on the edge of the highway, looking down on their little settlement, his skin shining silver. Out of all the people in their group, he was the one who took watch duty most seriously. He knew that if he let his guard down, even for a minute, that a walker could sneak into the camp and kill someone.

He had too much blood on his hands already.

Yet, he couldn't seem to focus. The only thing he could think about was Carol and what he planned to do when someone came to relieve him. Everything that happened since he went back to the farm that night, just seemed so unreal, almost dreamlike. So many good things were happening so quickly.

Good things never happened to him.

With a shaky sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. It was beginning to become cumbersome—too long and too shaggy. He used to have hair that was so long that it touched his shoulders, but that was years ago. Hell, he had to have been in high school then. Daryl shook his head, unable to believe that his high school years now seemed like distant memories. _Everything that happened before the dead started walkin' is a distant memory. _Not that it mattered; Daryl's life before the apocalypse was composed of memories that he would much rather destroy than look back on with nostalgia.

He scuffed his boot on the gravel at the edge of the road, feeling a little somber. He knew he wasn't the only ones with demons in his past. Immediately, he thought of Carol. How many times had Ed beaten her until she could hardly move? How many times had he called her vile, disgusting names? How many times had he hurt her?

A rage unlike any other he had ever experience rose within him at the very thought. He wished that Ed Peletier had stayed alive just a little longer… Just a few more months so Daryl could personally…

"Hey," a voice broke him from his dark fantasies.

The hunter's head snapped up, and his eyes darted around wildly until they landed on Glenn. The boy trudged up the small slope, a hunting rifle in his hands. "I've come to relieve you of your duty," he said, puffing out his chest with purposefully corny pride. A few moments later, he returned to being the geeky Korean kid Daryl knew him to be. "We saved ya some dinner down there."

He nodded. "Uh… thanks."

Glenn snorted, sliding over the guardrail. "Don't thank me; it was Carol. The rest of us were attacking the carcass like a pack of hungry wolves. We weren't even thinking about you."

"Great. I jus' love knowin' that I risk my skin every damn day for you idiots and ya don't even think 'bout savin' me some damn food," Daryl replied gruffly. He was teasing, of course, but Glenn didn't know that.

The kid's eyes widened. "It's not that, Daryl!" he said quickly, trying to save himself. "It's just—"

Daryl gave him a soft pat on the shoulder. "Jesus, kid, I'm jus' pullin' yer leg."

Glenn let out a very nervous laugh before nodding. "Of…. Of course. I… I knew that."

As the hunter turned to head back to the camp, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked to see Glenn standing there, looking almost uncertain. "Look… uh… I'm not so good with words… well… I guess I'm… ha… better than you… but… well…"

"Goddamn it, spit it out," Daryl hissed, annoyed. He didn't want to stand there and listen to Glenn's bullshit. All he wanted was to get back to his tent so he could be with Carol. He needed to be with her. He just needed to.

"Well… I know the others don't always show it, but we… we appreciate you," Glenn said, almost with a groan. It was as if it caused him physical pain to admit it. "I just… wanted to make sure you knew that."

Daryl was taken off guard by the kid's words. He didn't know how to respond to that. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? He just gave Glenn a long look before hopping over the guardrail and disappearing into the shadows of the night.

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A/N: Review...?


	12. Chapter 12

_Amaranthine - Chapter 12_

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**Well guys, it finally happens.**

**I just hope I did a good job...**

**I don't know how I feel about this chapter... I don't think I like the way I wrote it, but oh well. All that matters is that you guys like it.**

**Oh, and this chapter is written entirely from Carol's point of view since I am a woman, and... well... I figured it'd be easier to write something like this from a woman's perspective, so no Daryl POV this chapter. Don't worry; he'll be back in Chapter 13.**

**Well... ****Let's get this over with.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

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**Chapter Twelve**

Carol had done her best to prepare for that night. After dinner, she slipped away to the tent that she and Daryl now shared. After zipping the flap closed and making sure that there were no peeping toms lurking nearby, Carol began to strip. As her small body came in contact with the chilly night air, gooseflesh broke out across her skin. She already felt a tingling sensation throughout her body just at the thought of Daryl crawling into bed with her at night, and this new feeling was already adding to the odd pleasure she received from the thought.

No one had ever made her feel like this before.

She rummaged through her pack, looking for something skimpy. She wanted to expose herself to Daryl as much as possible without lying there completely naked, or just in her under garments. She wanted to surprise him—blow him away; make it impossible for him to resist her. But she knew that that wasn't going to happen. She wasn't pretty like Maggie; her breasts weren't big enough to grab any man's attention, her body didn't fit well to her clothes, and her hips swayed awkwardly back and forth whenever she tried to be sexy.

With a sigh, she pulled out a black tank top out of her pack and stared at it for a moment. It would have to do. After discarding her bra on the floor, she pulled the tank top over her head. Instead of even looking for shorts, she climbed into her sleeping bag wearing just her tank top and black underwear.

She wasn't worried about falling asleep; how could she possibly sleep knowing that Daryl might waltz in at any moment?

It seemed like she laid there for hours, her eyes wide open and her body tense. Her mind played and replayed her various fantasies over and over again in her head.

She felt his footsteps before she heard him; the heavy footfalls of his army boots were a dead giveaway that Daryl Dixon was approaching. She slid the cover of the sleeping bag down so her chest was exposed. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Carol listened with bated breath as Daryl unzipped the tent and crawled inside. She heard him pause for a moment, hopefully staring at her in the tank top. Her breath hitched as she listened to the rustling of fabric as Daryl made his way over to her. It was then that her mind began to process what was happening: she was going to sleep with Daryl.

She waited for his hands to touch her, or for his lips to brush hers, but they never did. After about a minute of waiting, she opened one eye to see what was going on. Daryl lay on the floor beside her, his own eyes closed. Confused, she stared at him for a moment before breaking the silence, "Daryl?"

His china blue eyes opened slowly. They blinked a few times as he watched her. "Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake ya up," he whispered.

Carol shook her head. "You didn't," she replied, rolling on her side and rested on her elbow so she could be closer to him. She purposefully leaned toward him, pressing her small breasts together so he could see them better.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably and looked away, embarrassed. Carol smiled weakly. "It's okay. You can look."

His face flushed at that. "Carol…"

"I thought you were going to give me an example of Daryl Dixon's… chats," she said innocently, batting her eyelashes. They were touching now, their arms brushing. Carol looked down on him grinning slightly; he winced ever so slightly

"Uh… I thought that ya wanted ta sleep," he replied stiffly. "But… if you want…"

Carol's heart was doing somersaults as she nodded. "I do," she breathed.

Daryl gazed at her for a moment, licking his lips almost in anticipation. Carol soon realized that she was going to have to make the first move. Taking a deep breath, Carol straddled him, making sure to never glance away from his intense blue stare. When Daryl laid eyes on her black underwear, she watched somewhat triumphantly as his eyes closed and a soft purring groan came from his throat. She began to grind against him. Her pace was painfully slow, and she focused on the grunts that escaped his lips that urged her on. It took less than a minute for her to feel something hard poking against her upper thigh.

Without warning, Daryl's hands grabbed her hips and held her still. "I won't… I can't…" he gasped, breathless and struggling to find the right words. "I won't be able ta… last if ya keep this up."

Carol nodded and stared at him, her mind drawing a blank. She knew that she would have to tell him what she wanted, but she honestly didn't know. Ed had always taken control; he'd thrown her on the bed and got his release without a second thought. He had never cared about her or her pleasure; he'd never taken the time to _make love_ to her. Carol had watched it hundreds of times in movies, but she knew that sex in real life was never like that.

Daryl seemed to sense that she was at a loss so slowly ran his hands up her sides. "C'mere, woman," he breathed, watching her with soft eyes. Carol leaned down toward him until their lips touched. She savored the feeling of his lips working against hers, slowly, almost lovingly. One of Daryl's hands left her side and cupped her cheek. She let out a small sound of pleasure as he ran a rough, calloused thumb across her soft skin.

To her surprised, Daryl ran his tongue along her lips, asking for entry, which she granted. As their tongues met, he began to sit up, his hands gently guiding her back so he didn't hurt her. Carol let him move her where he wanted, enjoying his new boldness. His hands were now on the small of her back, pulling her closer to up until their chests touched. She worked on deepening the kiss; her hands rested on his chest, her fingers occasionally tightening around his shirt.

Daryl's kiss became more aggressive and more addictive. He was kissing her in a way that Carol believed should be illegal; his lips were practically devouring hers, and his tongue was fervently dancing with hers. His hands wandered up and down her back, occasionally brushing the bare skin her skimpy tank top left exposed. She shivered whenever he brushed them; his hands were so rough, but they were gentle, caressing.

Without warning, Carol felt herself being rolled over. Before she could even process what was going on, she was pinned beneath him. Daryl's lips attacked her once more, betraying his hunger. Carol's heart was pounding; her own arousal was growing stronger and stronger by the minute. Daryl was so unguarded now, so unashamed of his want for her, and it was driving her insane. Waves of heat were flooding her core as her body ached for him. She couldn't wait any longer; she needed him.

She began to undress, pulling her tank top upward so she could slip it over her head. Daryl let out a low, seductive growl between her lips. He pulled away for just a few seconds, allowing Carol to pull the tank top over her head. As she discarded somewhere on the floor, she could feel the hunter's eyes on her, examining her. Feeling sheepish, Carol looked away, afraid of what she would find in his eyes. Daryl's hand rested on her cheek one more and tilted it towards him. She risked a glance at him, and saw nothing but raw affection in his eyes.

He gave her a small smile. "No need fer that," he whispered. His other hand that had been resting on her side, slid up to cup one of her breasts. "Yer tha most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I ain't even seen all a' ya yet."

Carol began to squirm underneath him as Daryl ran his thumb over her already erect nipple. She bit her lip in order to keep from crying out. The hunter smirked. "Ya like that?" he inquired, his voice dark and seductive.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The heat between her legs was now replaced with a blazing fire. Carol had never felt anything like this before, especially not with Ed. Not even in her fantasies had she ever felt such a need before. While Daryl continued the torturously wonderful ministrations to her breasts, Carol's hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt. He slipped it off swiftly once she'd finished and then kissed her again, his lips just as urgent as before.

Carol's hands then moved down to his pants. She felt Daryl's body tense as she began to remove his belt. Praying that she didn't stop it, she moved onto the button of his jeans. Before she could even try to undo it, his hands seized her wrists. Afraid to look at his face, she stared at his chest. He was muscular and trim, but not rock hard or anything close to a bodybuilder.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Daryl spoke, seeming to have recovered from her actions, "Ya best let me do that part." His voice was husky with lust, and that only made Carol's arousal more unbearable.

She nodded in resignation and watched as Daryl sat up on his knees. He kicked off his jeans, giving her a better view of his erection through his boxers. Carol gulped; it was so much larger than Ed's had ever been. Her hunter hesitated, glancing up at her. Their eyes met for a moment, and that seemed to give Daryl all the confidence he needed.

Moments later, his boxers joined the pile of clothes on the floor next to the sleeping bag.

Carol couldn't help but stare as she finally laid eyes on him. It was even larger now that it was free from the confinements of his clothes. Without thinking she reached out to touch it, but Daryl grabbed her hand quickly. "I can't wait," he growled simply.

Nodding, took a deep, much-needed breath as Daryl moved away from her. The hunter moved over to his pack that he had thrown carelessly on the floor of the tent, and began to rummage through it. A few seconds later, he returned to her, with a condom. Quickly, he opened it, and rolled it down his length. Carol then lifted her hips into the air so he could take off her panties. He pulled off the embarrassingly thin fabric and tossed it somewhere on the floor of the tent.

And then they both paused.

They marveled at one another, drinking in their lover's body. Tears snuck into Carol's eyes and threatened to fall. Daryl saw them and immediately became concerned. He took her face in his hands, resting on his elbows so she wouldn't be crushed by his weight. "Carol, what's wrong?" he asked solicitously. "Did _I_ do something wrong?"

She shook her head, smiling like an idiot. "No, no, of course not! I just… I've never been so happy," she said, twisting her fingers through his untidy hair. "I can't believe this is finally happening."

Daryl smiled, clearly relieved. "Me either," he admitted breathlessly.

Carol took a deep breath and opened her legs for him. "Daryl… please."

The hunter closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath before shifting so he could enter her. One of his hands held her hips steady while the others found hers in the shadows of the tent. Daryl gave it a gentle squeeze before looking into her eyes. "I love ya, woman," he breathed before sliding inside her.

She groaned softly, and gripped his shoulders. The feeling of him inside her sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling throughout her body. And what he'd told her only added to the ecstasy; he loved her.

_He loved her._

Daryl stayed agonizingly still as her body adjusted to the feel of him. He watched her for a few moments, looking for any traces of pain. "Ya alright?"

"Yes…" she gasped. "You… You can move now."

He began to thrust, slowly at first until he found a good rhythm. Carol then began to buck her hips up to meet his, allowing him to plunge deeper inside her. She dug her nails into his shoulders, biting back moans that would undoubtedly alert the group of their activities. But as Daryl began to move faster and faster, Carol was beginning to lose control. "Oh God…" she groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh my God… Daryl… Daryl… Daryl!"

"Fuck!" he growled.

Carol felt his entire body tense, and she knew what was happening. A moment later, Daryl came, spilling his seed inside her.

Unsure of what to do after that, Carol just laid there, waiting for his reaction. She hadn't had an orgasm, but she didn't really care. She was just glad that she and Daryl had finally made love.

"Shit, shit, _shit!_" Daryl cursed, pulling out of her. He rolled onto the floor next to the sleeping bag and covered his face with his hands.

Carol moved so she was pressed up against his side. "Daryl, it's alright."

"No it ain't," he snarled, throwing his hands up in the air. "I fucked it up. I knew I would."

"Stop it!" she snapped, beginning to feel somewhat irritated. "You didn't fuck it up, but now you are by making such a big deal out of it! It's okay. Really."

Daryl gave her a tortured glance. "You didn't even get a chance ta—"

"_Stop,_" Carol implored. "Please, just stop. That was… the best experience I've ever had."

He arched an uncertain eyebrow. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really." When Daryl still looked unconvinced, she tried to change the subject. "Daryl… Did you mean what you said? Do you really…. Do you really love me?"

Daryl looked at her, his eyes becoming very soft. "Yeah, woman. I do."

Carol let out a sigh of relief and rested her head on his shoulder. There was absolutely no question: this was the best night of her life. Everything that she'd always wanted—every fantasy she'd always had had finally come true. She kissed his sweaty shoulder and smiled. "I love you too, Daryl Dixon."

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A/N: ...Review...?

I don't know anymore...

I really don't.


	13. Chapter 13

_Amaranthine - Chapter 13_

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**Hey guys, just to let you know, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ THESE. If there is anything important, it'll be in all caps. This is just the way I can connect with you guys and talk a bit about the chapter. If you don't like them, just scroll down. :)**

**Sorry for the long delay on this chapter, but I just felt that I needed to set this aside for a bit and clear my head. In a way, I'm glad I did, and I kind of like the way this chapter turned out, but it's ultimately up to you guys to decide.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

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**Chapter Thirteen**

Daryl woke the next morning with his stomach in a knot. Immediately, memories of the night before came flooding back to him; Carol's kiss, her beautiful body, her moaning his name, his orgasm and the embarrassment that followed. Wincing, he instinctively reached out for Carol only to find that she wasn't there. He sat up and looked around the tent, confused.

He dressed swiftly, desperate to find Carol and make sure she was alright. In all honesty, he had hoped to wake up beside her, and hopefully remedy his mistake from the previous night. Daryl's stomach twisted at the thought of it. _Ya fuckin' loser. Ya finally are wit her—ya finally make love ta her and ya blow it. Ya never cum before yer woman. Ever. Merle'd have yer skin if he found out what happened last night!_

As he exited the tent, the midday sun blinded him. Groaning softly, he raised a hand to his forehead to block out some of the rays. Once his eyes adjusted and he was able to make out the seen around him. Lori sat near the now smoking fire pit with Beth at her side. The small blond was still shaking. Daryl wondered if she'd ever stop. Hershel sat opposite of the two women, reading a book. Every now and then he'd glance up to make sure his daughter was still there before looking down again. T-Dog was up by the highway with a rifle in his hands, obviously on guard duty. Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carol, and Carl were nowhere to be seen.

Where the fuck was she?

Cursing, Daryl stalked over to the fire. "Where the hell is everybody?" he snarled, rougher than he'd meant to.

Beth flinched at the gravel in his voice, but everyone else seemed oddly soothed by it, as if it were a sign of normality.

"There you are," Hershel said almost approvingly. "We were beginnin' to wonder if you were ever gonna wake up."

"Yeah, Carol said you were exhausted, so we let you sleep in for once," Lori said, squinting up at him. "Plus, we don't need any more food after the deer you got last night."

Daryl's lips twitched a little at the thought of Carol asking if he could sleep longer than usual. "Well, ya never answered my question! Where is everybody?"

"Rick, Glenn, and Maggie went to scout the surroundin' area," Hershel explained. "Carol wanted to look around the cars a bit more up on the highway, so Carl went with her."

"_Carl?!_" Daryl shouted in outrage. "Ya let a _kid_ go with Carol to _protect _her?!"

"Carl insisted," Lori said, sounding a little upset. "And, in my mind, Carol is protecting him, not the other way around."

_Fuckin' great! Even better!_ He rubbed his temples laboriously, glowering at his boots."And ya think that Carol can—"

"Can what?"

Daryl froze in mid-sentence. His head snapped up and his eyes landed on the woman he'd been speaking of.

Carol stood there, her weight shifted to one side and her arms folded across her chest. Carl was standing beside her, his face shadowed by the brim of his sheriff's hat. The kid had one hand on his gun holster, and the other was clenched into a fist at his side. "We were fine, okay?" he snapped, glowering at Daryl with narrowed eyes. "I can take care of things!"

Daryl ignored him and stalked up to Carol. "Tha hell were ya thinkin'?!"

The woman gazed at him evenly, her face impassive. While her face held no traces of anger or annoyance, her body language suggested otherwise. She was unusually stiff, and it looked as if she were trying not to punch the redneck in the face. "I was thinking that maybe we could get more food and supplies from the abandoned cars," she told him simply. Her voice was like her face—calm and collective. It made Daryl wary. "I wanted to go, but Lori said it wasn't a good idea I went by myself, so Carl tagged along. Nothing happened, and, even if something had went down, Carl had his gun, and I had my knife. We were perfectly fine, and I honestly don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it!" Her voice rose and octave at the end, irritation finally breaking her poker-faced attitude.

He winced slightly at her new tone. "Ya coulda woken me up! I woulda gone wit ya!" he replied, now struggling with reasons that could validate his anger.

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Excuse me for letting you sleep!"

"Jus' tell me shit, before ya go doin' it, will ya?! I was—" Daryl cut himself off, remembering they won't alone. He wanted to tell her that he was worried sick about her, but knew that was an awful idea. The last thing they needed was the entire camp to know about their little romance.

Carol seemed to understand the unspoken words, for her expression softened. "I will, as long as you don't get all over my case the moment I come back," she murmured in response.

Daryl grinned furtively, before looking at his boots. He could have stood there forever, looking into her beautiful eyes, but he knew there was work to do. As he turned away from her, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye—just the rustle of some leaves, but it was enough to make him jump. Immediately, he turned toward it, and put a hand on his knife. The others, alarmed by his sudden defensive stance, leapt to their feet. Hershel grabbed his shotgun, while Lori ushered Beth behind her. Carl ran over to his mother, his gun already drawn. Daryl glanced at Carol swiftly; she stood next to him now, staring at the place where his eyes had been fixated previously.

"Behind me," he grunted, pulling his knife from its sheathe.

To his relief, Carol did as he asked and stepped behind him. She was close enough where he could protect her, but she was giving him his space as well, knowing he had to be focused. Did she really know him that well? Daryl had little time to dwell on that; he looked back to the place where he'd spotted the movement. His eyes squinted as they fought the sun for sight. Something was definitely in there, coming toward them, but he couldn't determine if it was a human, or a walker.

"Whoa! Lower yer guns!" Rick's voice sounded through the foliage. Daryl blinked, his vision finally seeming to come into focus. The police officer emerged a moment later with Glenn at his side. He overlooked the scene with a mixture of pride and sadness on his face.

"We thought you guys were walkers," Lori explained sitting back down, Beth still in her arms.

"Sorry," Rick murmured, looking around at the rest of his group. "We shoulda called out sooner. Anyway, we found an old mall down the road a little ways. I figured maybe later today, or tomorrow a small group could go check it out." The cop's eyes landed on Daryl as he spoke.

The hunter nodded in response to the silent message. "Lemme know when yer ready."

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They ate the rest of Daryl's deer that night, meaning he would have to go hunting sometime tomorrow, not that he minded. He enjoyed hunting; it was cleansing. He felt like he could let all his other worries wash away while he focused on the hunt. His mind didn't have to busy itself with useless thoughts anymore.

At least, that was how it was before.

Now, Daryl wasn't so sure that he could achieve that solitary mindset anymore; he had Carol now. He had to think about her, her needs, her wants, her safety, and if didn't, what kind of man was he? She was his woman now, and it was his responsibility to look after her. Maybe responsibility is the wrong word; Daryl didn't view her as a burden—she was anything but that!—but as a blessing. Carol was the first woman in his life that he ever had romantic feelings for, and he was so terrified that he would mess up their fragile relationship somehow. He'd only recently confessed his true feelings to her, and he didn't know how it would go from there.

A tidal wave of anxiety engulfed him. He didn't want to think about a life without her; he couldn't imagine one.

As everyone began to finish up dinner, Daryl retreated to his tent. He hoped Carol would follow, but wasn't going to force her; he understood if she didn't want to share his tent anymore. Guilt pierced him as he thought of the night before. _I didn't even give her a fuckin' chance ta— _He stopped himself before he became overwhelmed with self-loathing.

He slid into the tent and began to unfold a sleeping bag. The nights were getting colder, and he knew that a sleeping bag would offer more warmth than the flimsy blanket he and Carol had shared the night before.

Just as he was spreading it out across the floor, he heard the tell-tale rustle of a tent flap behind him. Carol came up beside him a moment later, smiling at the sleeping bag. "That'll be warm," she commented in a conversational tone.

Daryl nodded, not knowing what to say.

His silence seemed to discourage her; she backed off and began to rummage through her pack. "So… Rick invited me to go investigate the mall with you guys tomorrow?"

The hunter froze. "He what?"

Carol nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, he said he wants to see how far my skills have come. I have gotten better, you know."

"You ain't goin'," he told her bluntly.

"What?"

"I said you ain't goin'!"

Daryl looked up from smoothing the fabric of the sleeping bag to see a very angry Carol. Her beautiful, crystalline eyes were as cold as ice as she glowered at him. "And since when are you my keeper?"

"I ain't yer damn keeper, woman!" he snarled. "I jus' want ya where I know ya'll be safe!"

Carol's expression softened. "And where on this earth is safer than at your side?"

Daryl glared at the sleeping bag. He grudgingly admitted to himself that she was right. She'd be safer where he could look after her, yet the idea of her being anywhere near walkers put him on edge. "How do ya know I won't fuck up? I fuck everythin' up!"

She frowned at that, and placed her tiny hand over his massive arm. "Where did that come from? You're a very valuable member of this group, Daryl Dixon! Most of these people would be dead right now if it weren't for you! I'd be dead."

He grimaced at the thought of her lying in the forest, torn apart by walkers, or, even worse, walking as one of them.

"And unless you consider saving me and everyone else a fuck up, then you've been doing pretty well," she said with a teasing smile.

"I can't even make ya happy in bed!" Daryl growled, hating himself more and more every minute.

Carol let out an exasperated sigh. "Daryl Dixon!" she spat in frustration. "Last night was literally one of the best nights of my life! And I'm not just saying that! Nothing before… nothing with Ed—it could never compare to that!"

"But ya didn't even get ta—"

"And I hardly ever got it with Ed either, Daryl. Plus, I know that we'll get better at this—at everything. It's like learning how to shoot a walker in the head—you have to practice first. Your aim isn't going to be perfect on your first try. We aren't going to be perfect on our first try; it's not like how it is in the movies."

Daryl smiled slightly at the mention of something from before all hell broke loose. "Ya sure? I mean… I really am sorry I fucked it up—"

She cut him off by putting a finger to his lips. "Shh. Stop apologizing. If you think it'll make you feel better… you can make it up to me. Right now."

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A/N: Review? :)


	14. Chapter 14

_Amaranthine - Chapter 14_

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**Hey guys, I have a question for you all. This story is progressing, and I was wondering what you guys would like to see. This story is going to, for the most part, follow the TV show. I plan to have this story last through the majority of the winter that we didn't see. I was thinking that after the winter, I would end this story and POSSIBLY make a sequel dealing with Season 3, the Governor, and Merle. I don't know. Would you guys want a sequel, or do you want me to do it as one, big, long fanfic? **

**Let me know in your reviews, please.**

**I don't own the Walking Dead.**

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**Chapter Fourteen**

Carol was surprised when Daryl's lips crushed against hers. After a few moments of frozen bewilderment, she recovered. She kissed him back, her lips working tirelessly against his. Daryl's hands encircled her body, pulling her close to him. There was an urgency to his kiss that made her entire body come to life. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and slipped her tongue into his mouth.

The moment she did so, Daryl pulled away. Fearing she did something wrong, Carol relaxed, giving him the chance to move her wherever he wanted. Daryl pulled her into his lap, moving her legs so she was straddling him. Carol cupped his face with her hands and looked down into his piercing blue eyes. He stared back at her for a few seconds before pressing his lips to her neck. Carol let out a small moan as he proceeded to kiss down to her collarbone. Occasionally, his tongue would sneak out and swirl across her skin, making her shiver in pleasure.

His hands ran along her back, caressing her skin gently. There was no fear in his touch now, no uncertainty. Carols' breath hitched as the hunter's hands grabbed her ass gently. He shifted her body so the apex of her legs was positioned right over his erection. She felt her arousal increase when she felt his teeth graze her earlobe.

She was overwhelmed by her need for him. Her hands abandoned his face and flew to the hem of her shirt. Daryl's lips left her neck for a split second so she could pull the shirt over her head. The moment it was off, he began to devour her newly exposed skin hungrily. Carol moaned and began to grind herself against him, desperate for friction.

Daryl's hands found the clasp of her bra and began to fumble with it. After a few futile attempts, the hunter pulled away and let out a frustrated growl. "Take tha damn thing off, woman!"

Carol let out a giggle at his irritation, and swiftly removed the garment, baring her chest to him. Daryl drank her in with a lustful look in his eyes. "Goddamn, woman…" he breathed, cupping both of her breasts in his hands. He then raised his eyes to her face and smiled slightly. "Ya get more beautiful every time I see ya."

She flushed at his statement and wrapped her arms around his neck. Truthfully, she didn't know how to respond to such a compliment. Even now, accepting compliments like that was difficult for her, especially when it came from a man who never gave out praise at all. She kissed him slowly, focusing on how it felt for his lips to be against hers. She wanted to remember that feeling for the rest of her life. For all she knew, they could both die tomorrow, but, as foolish as it was, at least she would remember what it felt like to kiss him.

Daryl kissed her back just as gently, kneading her breasts softly. Carol sucked in a breath as his thumb ran over one of her nipples. The hunter smirked underneath her fervent lips.

Not giving her a chance to protest, Daryl laid her back on the sleeping bag, breaking the kiss as he did so. She stared up at him, a tad frustrated. All she wanted to do was kiss him over and over until she couldn't breathe anymore. She smiled slightly at herself; she was starting to sound like a love-struck teenager again. Daryl caught her furtive grin and returned it with a loving look.

"Imma make it up ta ya," he promised. His voice was soft and husky, and it turned her on. She could see a mountain already building in his jeans, and resisted the urge to rip them off. Daryl moved so he hovered over her, gazing down at her face. A few long strands of his hair fell in his face, but he hardly noticed. Carol looked up at him, her entire body bubbling with desire for the man before her. "Imma make ya feel good, woman," he breathed, before capturing her lips with his once more.

She was lost in all that was Daryl Dixon. His lips, his hands, his body—everything seemed to smother her. This intimacy was not like their first; while they both were still ravaged with need for one another, it was more controlled this time. Daryl took his time giving her the pleasure he so desperately longed to provide her, and she was absolutely engrossed in the love she held for him.

Carol couldn't remember when he'd taken her pants off, but he must have. Everything was becoming a wonderful blur of epileptic images. She didn't realize that she was naked until Daryl slid one of his fingers inside her. Gasping, she gripped the fabric of the sleeping bag tightly. His other hands teased her nipples, only adding to the ecstasy. She could feel herself losing control very quickly; his finger stroking her drenched walls, and the glorious feeling she received whenever he pinched her nipple between his thumb and his forefinger was enough to send her over the edge.

It wasn't long before she came. The orgasm sent a tidal wave of pleasure through her body, straight to her core. She threw back her head and, much to her embarrassment, screamed his name.

Once the aftershocks died down, and Carol got her breathing under control again, she heard Daryl chuckle. She raised her head and gave him a stern look. "What?"  
Daryl just smiled at her—a real, true smile. She blinked at him for a moment; he never smiled. "Ya're so fuckin' beautiful when ya…" he stopped, his ears turning a bit red.

She giggled at his sheepishness. "Wanna see it again?" she offered, glancing down at his obvious erection. Carol licked her lips in anticipation; she heard her lover groan in wanting.

The next thing she knew, he was hovering over her again, staring down at her with dark, wanton eyes. "Hell yeah."

* * *

When Daryl woke the next morning, Carol was still beside him. He let out a contented sigh and grinned at her lazily. His woman slept in his arms, her head resting on his chest, and hands around his neck. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, marveling at her beauty.

He didn't understand it.

How did he—an erratic, angry, taciturn, solitary, redneck hunter—end up with someone as kind, gentle, and beautiful as Carol? It made no sense, and yet there she was, lying beside him.

Daryl would have been content to lie there forever, but he knew it was impossible. Just as he was about to wake her, he heard Rick's voice just outside his camp. "Daryl… are you and Carol ready to go scout out that mall?"

The hunter gently moved his lover off his chest and sat up. "Yeah, we'll be out," he replied.

Carol's eyes blinked open at the sound of his voice. She looked up at him, looking a bit confused. Then she remembered, and gave him a lazy smile. "Morning," she yawned. Daryl watched her sit up, the fabric of the sleeping bag sliding down, revealing her chest. He felt a part of him twitch with longing.

"Rick wants ta go check out the mall now," he explained, trying not to look at her breasts.

She nodded and reached for her clothes that lay next to the sleeping bag. Daryl felt a little disappointed as she put on her bra, but gathered his own clothes. Once they were completely dressed, Carol gave him a reassuring smile. He still hated the idea of her coming along, but he knew he didn't really have a choice. If he put up a fight, he knew it would greatly complicate things with Carol, and he might anger Rick, which he really didn't want to do. He shook his head; what would Merle do if he saw Daryl worrying like an old woman. But he had every reason to be worried. Carol was everything to him, and he had no idea how he could go on without her. _I'll protect her, _he vowed, putting an end to his anxious thoughts. When a Dixon said they'd do something, they do it. _No walker is gonna take this woman away from me._

* * *

A/N: Sorry this one is a bit short, and that it took so long to get it out. Hoped ya like it! Review? :)


	15. Chapter 15

_Amaranthine - Chapter 15_

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**You may hate me at the end of this chapter... Just warning you.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

Rick, Daryl, Carol, and T-Dog approached the mall in silence. Rick and Daryl were in the lead, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. "Keep a lookout," Rick grumbled over his shoulder at the others. "Could be walkers anywhere."

"Or people," Daryl added, shooting a protective glance at Carol. The silver-haired woman walked as close to him as she could without being a nuisance. He made sure to keep a close eye on her. If anything happened… "Ya find walkers, ya'll know what ta do. Ya meet a person, ya find Rick or me." This was mostly directed at Carol, but it was T-Dog who nodded. The hunter's woman just looked on with a blank expression, her eyes darting from shop to shop. For some reason, this relaxed him; she was focused on the task at hand.

The group entered what looked like the remains of a cafeteria. There were very few tables and chairs left in their original positions; most of them were stacked up on one side, barricading one of the hallways that branched off from the cafeteria. Daryl strung his crossbow quickly and raised it. He spun around slowly, trying to memorize the layout of the mall. Even though the area was circular, the fast-food restaurants were located on one side of the circle. On the other side, and to the north and south, hallways branched off and led to different sections of the mall. There was so much room here, so many hiding places for walkers, and humans.

Daryl didn't like it at all, especially since Carol was with them.

Rick came over to him, an inquiring look on his face. "What ya think?"

"Don't like it," he admitted bluntly, lowering his crossbow. "Too many hidin' places… We gotta search this place good 'fore we do anythin'… What exactly were ya plannin' ta do wit this place?"

The cop sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno… I was thinkin' this might be a nice place ta stay if it's clear."

Daryl didn't approve of that idea, but kept his mouth shut. Before the day was through, Rick was liable to change his mind without the hunter's input.

"But, for right now, it'll be a good place ta scavenge. There might not be a lot of food here, but could be other supplies here," he muttered.

He nodded in agreement, but still was uncertain about whether it was even worth scoping the place out. "Well," Daryl began, his eyes landing unintentionally on Carol. She stood with her back to him, looking down one of the hallways. Her gun was in her hands, and he could tell by her body language that she was tense, and prepared to spring into action at any moment. He couldn't help the surge of pride that rushed through him at the sight.

Rick raised his eyebrows and shook his head expectantly. Daryl seemed to jerk back to consciousness; he shook off his unnecessary emotions and tried to remember what he was going to say. "Well, we should at least look through the restaurants. There might be food left over. We might even wanna head over to some information center see if there're any first-aid kits. I dunno what else we really need in 'ere."

"Alright, that's our plan then," Rick decided, motioning for Carol and T-Dog to come over. When they came, he continued, "Daryl had a good plan. We'll check out the restaurants for food, and look around for first-aid kits. T-Dog, you and I will check out this area. Daryl, you take Carol and look around for any information centers, or anyplace that might have something useful. If ya need help, give us a holler."

Daryl was relieved that Rick had paired him and Carol up together. Of course, if Rick had done otherwise, he would have insisted that it be changed so he could keep an eye on Carol. He met Carol's eyes and motioned with his crossbow for them to depart.

They walked down the hall Carol had been guarding in silence. "What d'ya think a' yer first run?" Daryl queried. It felt awkward for him to initiate a conversation, even if it was with the woman he loved.

Carol smiled wistfully. "It's good so far. Not like I expected it."

He smirked at that. "What did ya think we were gonna be fightin' walkers from beginnin' ta end? Ya know, woman, the entire point is ta _avoid _tha geeks."

She shot him a playful glare. "I _know_ that, Dixon. You're the one that built them up to be some incredibly dangerous, covert operation."

"It _is_ an incredibly dangerous, covert operation," the hunter answered with a chuckle. "This might as well be secret agent stuff."

Carol rolled her eyes. "Alright, 007."

He laughed.

* * *

They walked until they finally came to something that looked like the remnants of a maintenance desk. Unfortunately for them, there were no first-aid kits in sight, or really any other supplies for that matter. Most of the stores were sacked; the empty shelves left behind looked like old bones stripped of flesh. "Looks like everyone and their mother had the same idea we did," Daryl muttered, as they entered one of the stores.

Carol looked around, her gun still drawn and clutched tightly in her hands. The mission was going fairly easy so far—she hadn't even seen a walker yet—but she knew better than to let her guard down. Just because she couldn't see any danger didn't mean that there wasn't any around.

She surveyed the store with a sad expression. What had this place been before the world fell apart? By the few scraps that had been left behind, it looked to be some kind of clothing store, but for whom? Adults? Teens? Children? Babies? Her insides twisted at the memories of shopping in stores like this one with Sophia. Her daughter always loved to shop, and was always excited to get new things. Was this a place Sophia would have enjoyed once upon a time?

It didn't matter anymore—the place was a mess. If Carol didn't know better, she would have guessed that a tornado had gone through the place. Shelves were knocked over, items that were looked over, or useless were left lying in the aisles.

"Carol," Daryl's voice broke her from her reverie. "Ya alright?"

She nodded quickly. "Yeah… fine… just…" she took a deep breath, trying to repress memories of Sophia, "thinking."

Daryl didn't need an explanation, and let her be, heading deeper into the store. Carol, deciding to put herself to good use, guarded the entrance. Her eyes kept wandering up and down the empty hallway, keeping a lookout for walkers. It didn't seem right they hadn't seen one yet.

Suddenly, a shot rang out, and it was entirely too close for comfort. She took the safety off her gun and looked around, her heart pounding in her chest.

"CAROL!?" Daryl shouted.

Before she could answer, another shot sounded. Carol was hit by some unseen force that knocked her off her feet. As she fell to the floor, the pain began to ravage her shoulder. When she finally came in contact with the tile floor of the store, the pain was almost consuming. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire.

"CAROL!"

It was Daryl.

He was screaming.

The next thing she heard was a symphony of gunshots. New, unknown voices joined Daryl's, and she soon heard Rick's and T-Dogs as well. The pain was so intense, Carol could feel herself slowly slipping out of consciousness, or maybe it was because of blood loss. She didn't know. All she knew was that she wanted the pain to go away. Slowly, the world around her faded away, and she was engulfed in an endless, black abyss. To her surprise, this didn't frighten her, in fact, this oblivion seemed almost welcoming; it was a promise of no more pain.

As she slipped away, the majority of her thoughts abandoned her. But one remained; a name.

_Daryl._

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A/N: HAHAHA. Sorry to leave you hanging like that, but I'll try to have the next one out as quickly as I can. Review? :)


	16. Chapter 16

_Amaranthine - Chapter 16_

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**Sorry, I meant to get this out sooner, but here it is.**

**I don't own the Walking Dead.**

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**Chapter Sixteen**

When Carol hit the ground, the universe of Daryl Dixon came to a screeching halt. His blood ran cold, and he swore that his heart stopped beating. He stood in the store, his crossbow raised and his body rooted to the spot. He couldn't move no matter how badly he wanted too. All he could do was watch helplessly as blood gushed from the wound in his woman's shoulder. Her name suddenly flew from his lips in a voice that was half-strangled; he hardly recognized it.

His initial shock was then replaced with a fury that could put hell itself to shame. Daryl picked up Carol's handgun and scanned the surrounding area. Dark, malevolent thoughts pulsed through his brain. He wasn't going to kill them—not with the gun. No, he'd shoot them in the leg—keep them from running. After that, things would be easy. First, he would beat them into a quivering pulp. He'd make sure they knew what it meant to mess with Daryl Dixon. Then, he'd slowly cut them up into tiny pieces, and then sew up the wounds to keep them alive. He'd remove all of their appendages until they bled to death.

Movement made him spring into action. A man was peeking out from behind a pillar, a hunting rifle in his hands. Daryl pulled the trigger on Carol's gun. The man went down seconds later; he never missed, especially not in when his people—when his woman—needed protection. The only thing Daryl regretted was hitting the guy in the head.

"DARYL!" Rick called somewhere nearby.

More gunshots and shouts came from nearby. Daryl turned just in time to see Rick and T-Dog run over. "Tha hell happened?" Rick huffed, gasping for breath. "We came as soon as we heard—" The deputy broke off in mid-sentence as he finally laid eyes on Carol's body. "Son of a bitch…"

"There they are!" an unknown voice shouted. Bullets suddenly zoomed by their heads. Rick and T-Dog ducked down and moved to take shelter inside the store. Daryl didn't even flinch. He stood in front of Carol, immovable as a mountain. There was no way he was going to let any of these bastards get near her.

"Daryl, what the hell are you doing?!" T-Dog yelled.

The hunter barely heard him. His eyes were trained a group of four men that were finally coming in range. Before they could move to take cover, Daryl fired. One of them was hit in the leg, and went down, screaming for help from his companions. His friends ignored him and took cover.

Rick tried to call Daryl back further into the store, but he didn't want to go. He wanted the cowards that shot the woman he loved to come forward and face him like men. "Goddamn it, Daryl! Get yer ass in here! We gotta draw up a plan or somethin'!"

With a disapproving growl, Daryl dropped the gun and went over to Carol. The moment he turned his back, the enemy open fired. Luckily for the hunter, their aims were worse than Beth's. Not that he cared; a part of him wanted to get shot. Then, if Carol didn't come back…

A sickening thought crept into his mind. She would come back, one way or another, either as herself, or as—

Daryl shook his head as he gathered the silver-haired woman in his arms. _That ain't gonna happen. Ya don't need ta be thinkin' a' that shit._ He carried her back into the recesses of the store, and cleared a place on the floor for her. "There a towel, or blanket or somethin'?" Daryl asked his companions gruffly. The men seemed a little confused by the question, but answered that there was none. Daryl laid the tiny woman on the floor, and looked at his friends a second time. "Rags? Anythin'?"

When they said nothing, Daryl let out a grumble of annoyance. "Did neither a ya notice that she's fuckin' bleedin'!?" he snarled. The hunter knelt down next to Carol, and removed his shirt. He wrapped the fabric around her shoulder in an effort to stop the bleeding. There was no exit wound, which was both good and bad. Good, because the bullet could be acting like a cork and holding back much of the blood, and bad because Hershel would have to remove it, and any shards later.

Once Carol was taken care of, the three of them began to discuss the plan, but Daryl couldn't focus. All he could think about was those monsters and what they did to Carol. _They'll pay,_ he vowed. _I'll make them fuckin' pay!_

"Alright, then, let's go," Rick suddenly said, rising to his feet. T-Dog followed the cop's lead, but Daryl lingered a moment. He looked down at Carol's face, his chest experiencing an unfamiliar ache. She looked so peaceful. If Daryl didn't know better, he would have guessed that she was sleeping. He gritted his teeth together, his eyes feeling entirely too moist.

"Ya'll be alright, woman. Ya'll fuckin' be alright."

* * *

Rick was out to fight the guys off—scare them off really. Daryl was out for blood, and the deputy knew it. Carol had gone down just minutes before, and since then, Daryl had been just plain scary. Rick thought briefly about the days back at the quarry when the tracker was just as volatile and erratic as his older brother, Merle. This new, vengeful Daryl not only reminded him of the old one, but something far more terrifying. There was something about the anger in his eyes, and the triumph that flashed whenever his enemies fell that reminded him of Shane.

The only cover the hall offered were old vending machines that had been toppled over ages ago, empty benches, and the occasional decorative plant display. Near the store they were holed up in was one of the few vending machines that still stood erect. Rick's plan was that Daryl would cover him and T-Dog as they went to the cover of the machine. Then, Rick and T-Dog take out as many of the other group as they could while Daryl snuck around and try to make some more stealthy kills.

Rick knew that Daryl was a much better fighter than he or T-Dog when it came to hand-to-hand combat. Plus, he knew that since Daryl had personal incentive for wanting these guys dead, the hunter would fight harder than normal. The only thing Rick was really afraid of was Daryl doing something too rash, or too stupid. The group needed Daryl Dixon, even if a few of the members disliked him. He was important to them all, especially Rick. With Shane gone, Daryl was the most likely person to be his new second-in-command. Glenn was a good kid, but he lacked the fearlessness and toughness that the redneck possessed. Rick was already a fairly soft leader, and he knew he needed someone harder and colder than himself to help lead the group, and give him advice. Not to mention that having Daryl around to provide for them meant that Lori's baby would have a better chance of staying alive.

The three of them gathered by the entrance. T-Dog and Daryl stood tense, waiting for Rick to give the word. He took a deep breath, a bead of sweat running down his forehead, and then between his eyes. Rick removed the safety on his gun and nodded at T-Dog. The two of them charged forward. Bullets shot through the air around them. Rick wasn't hit, but he felt a rush of air whenever they came too close.

He didn't even notice that T-Dog was no longer beside him until he reached the machine. Rick looked over, expecting to see his friend beside him. His mouth fell open when he realized that T-Dog wasn't there. "No," he breathed, whipping. T-Dog lay on the floor of the mall, his body limp.

More shells zipped through the air as Daryl sprinted over to the vending machine. Once safe, he stood there for a minute to catch his breath. "Ya okay?" he finally panted, looking Rick up and down with an uncertain look.

The deputy was a surprised by the question but nodded. He wanted to say so many things - most of them trivial and useless—but his mouth was dry.

"We gotta… be careful," Daryl muttered, almost as if he hated admitting it. "I'm fuckin' tired a' losing people. All those people on the farm, and now—" the hunter stopped in mid-sentence. He clamped his eyes shut and set his jaw, trying to conceal his emotions.

Rick watched with sympathetic eyes. He couldn't imagine losing Lori, even after what she did with Shane. Even though the woman had her flaws, she was still his wife, and he still loved her more than life itself. Daryl and Carol had just started their relationship, and now it might come to an end.

"Ya know how many are out there?" he asked, trying to get his friend's mind on something else.

Daryl peered around the side of the machine, only to jerk backward as more bullets flew in their direction. "I could make out four. They got a bench overturned on the other side a' tha hall in front a' a store. Fuckin' pussies."

Under different circumstances, Rick would have rolled his eyes at Daryl's remark. Right now, he was too busy trying to formulate a plan. "There is no good way ta do this, is there?"

Daryl snorted in bitter amusement. "Nope."

Rick sighed. "Ya think we should jus' stand 'ere and shoot at 'em?"

He shrugged. "Works for me."

* * *

It took longer than Daryl expected to hit the guys taking shelter behind the bench. Once he and Rick had killed two of them, Daryl turned to his friend, taking out his knife. "Ya keep shootin'!" he called over the gunfire.

The deputy watched him for a few seconds with incredulous eyes. Daryl thought he was going to object, but then the cop nodded. "Watch yerself out there!" he called before reloading his gun.

Daryl took a deep breath, and just as he was about to bolt for a pillar closer to their enemy, the shooting came to a sudden halt.

"BITERS!"

Seeming to forget that they were in the middle of a fight, Daryl watched as the men who shot Carol scrambled over the bench and into the open. He took aim and was about to pull the trigger of Carol's handgun when Rick grabbed his arm.

The gesture outraged him. He opened his mouth to give Rick hell, but the officer had already turned away. "We gotta get Carol and T-Dog and get 'em outta 'ere 'fore them walkers show up!"

Daryl looked back at where the men had been. Sure enough, three walkers were at the entrance to the store. They rammed into the bench over and over, moving it out of the way slowly, inch by inch. The men were gone, and Daryl's initial rage smoldered into a burning hatred. _I won't let 'em get away. I won't let 'em get away wit what they did ta ya, Carol._

But for now, his hunt had to wait; Carol needed him.

* * *

A/N: lol surprise Rick POV. This will most likely the only time we see things from Rick's perspective. Later on, we may get another Rick POV, or maybe even a Merle POV, but it will mostly remain Daryl and Carol. So far, I'm drifting toward the "keep it all one story" option because it saves me the hassle of making a new story and then telling people where to find it and all that, so I think I'm just gonna keep it one thread, and split this into parts. Consider this part one, and then I'll let you know when the story enters part two, and what would be the sequel.

Oh, and I know I don't usually reply to individual reviews, mainly because I really don't have time and when I actually get the reviews, its through the email on my phone, and it's difficult to come here, log in and reply. But I just want you guys to know that I read every single review and appreciate them so much. You guys truly are amazing and I'm so honored to have such wonderful people support this story. :)


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